


i don't wanna feel better

by Cypherr



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Attempted Sexual Assault, Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Good Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Hurt/Comfort, I'm sure motherinnit and fatherinnit are great, IRL Fic, If you ship these two i WILL come for your kneecaps, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, POV TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Panic Attacks, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Protective Wilbur Soot, SHIPPERS DNI, Sensory Overload, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Has ADHD (Video Blogging RPF), Traumatized Tommyinnit (Video Blogging RPF), dadbur, this is just a fic, touch-starved tommyinnit, trauma recovery babey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29807943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cypherr/pseuds/Cypherr
Summary: Tommy wasn't sure how it happened. Well, he knew how, he just wasn't quite sure what lead up to it. Tommy wasn't sure he knew much anymore. Life was strange
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 127
Kudos: 707





	1. waiting for you

**Author's Note:**

> Not me speedrunning a new series because I can't cope with Tommy's 3/1 stream. This is probably incomprehensible

Tommy wasn't sure how it happened. Well, he knew how it happened, he just wasn't quite sure what lead up to it.

He knew his father was struggling after the divorce- not financially, but emotionally. It was only fair that Tommy helped relieve some of his burdens, though, so when he was asked ( ~~demanded~~ ) that he pay the electricity and internet bills, it was no sweat off of his back. When his father got drunk and yelled at him for not having a real job and driving his mother away, that was okay too. It was his fault, after all. ( ~~He ignored the screaming matches that still played through his head. His mother begging his father to stop drinking. To stop hitting her every time he got even the slightest bit frustrated. Begging his father to actually be a parent.~~ )

But, Tommy wasn't quite sure how he ended up on the streets in the middle of February. It was valentine's day yesterday, and he had had a fantastic time with his online friends, and he wasn't going to let his father's drunken raging downstairs take away from that experience. But today, he had just wanted to fix himself some dinner. ( ~~His mom wasn't here to cook, anymore. To buy groceries. To make sure he ate before he streamed and stayed hydrated while he did~~.) His father had different plans, though. He had demanded that he pay for the rest of the bills, and Tommy had thought that that had been a bit too far. He thought that he'd been pretty lenient so far, but he was just a kid, despite the charade he may put up on stream. He's _sixteen_ , for fucks sake. The bills should be his father's responsibility. Any reasonable person knew that.

It was a blur after that. The red hot stinging sensation on his left cheek told its own story, though. As did the backpack slung over his shoulder with his wallet, a couple of pairs of clothes, his phone and charter, and all of his important documents that he could find.

Now, he was sixteen and homeless.

He wasn't sure what to do with himself.

In all honesty, Tommy thought that he'd be panicking more. However, he just felt calm. Well, calm wasn't quite the right word. Maybe numb was. Yeah, he felt _numb_.

He felt numb as the cold reddened his nose and frosted his fingertips. Numb as he walked along the near empty streets, only the occasional drunk as company. Numb as he sat down in his local park and scrolled through his contacts. Numb as he dialed Wilbur's number.

"Tommy, it's two in the fuckin' morning, what do you want," Wilbur yawned into the speaker after the third ring. Tommy really wasn't sure what to say. Tommy wasn't sure of a lot of things, anymore.

"Hi, Wilby," he settled for. His voice was strange and it warbled, but he, once again, wasn't sure why. Maybe it had to do with the tracks of ice that trailed down his cheeks. He supposed it didn't matter. Maybe he should've grabbed a warmer set of clothes. He didn't even have a jacket.

"Toms?" Wilbur asked, suddenly sounding alarmed. That was strange, Tommy thought. "What's the matter, sunshine?" That was a new nickname. He hasn't heard Will call him that before.

"It's cold, Wilby." Tommy wasn't sure why he was hanging around the issue. It was like his leaden tongue was speaking on its own accord, not caring for what his brain thought.

"Are you- are you outside?" Wilbur's voice was almost a whisper. It was strange. Wilbur was strange. He was cold.

"Mhm. Can't go nowhere."

"Why not, sunshine?"

"Don't got a home no more." He heard Wilbur gasp, and Tommy felt as if he should feel bad that he was bothering him. Making him upset. He knew that he probably would feel bad if he were alright. If he were normal. If anything about his situation was okay. But, he was sixteen, on a bench in the middle of some random fucking park, with nowhere else to go.

"Can you send me your location, Toms?" Wilbur asked next, voice high, like how one would talk to a particularly adorable dog.

"M'kay," he mumbled, not thank much of it. He clicked the little icon in the corner of his screen, seeing his address pop up in chat.

"Okay, sunshine. There's a Mcdonald's just down the road from where you are. Can you go there for me, please? It'll be a lot warmer in there, I promise."

"Okay, Wilby," he said on autopilot. He hauled himself up, swinging his bag back over his shoulder.

"How am I gonna stream?" He asked Wilbur absently as the establishment came into view.

"You don't have to worry about that, okay? I'll get it sorted out."

"M'kay."

Tommy opened the doors to the McDonald's, immediately being met with a wave of warm air. It made his skin tingle, the sudden change in temperature jarring to his frozen limbs. He could hear Wilbur humming, having plugged in his earbuds so he didn't have to hold his phone up to his ear any longer.

He ordered himself a small, ten piece nugget, his stomach still reeling from not having eaten earlier that night- morning? Tommy wasn't sure when everything had occurred. Actually, Tommy wasn't sure the last time he had had a proper meal. Fast food certainly didn't count, either.

He ate silently as he listened to Wilbur go about doing... something. Tommy wasn't sure. He wasn't really paying attention, to be fair. He didn't think he could if he tried. When he had depleted his meal, he decided that scrolling through Twitter wouldn't hurt. It's not like he had anything better to do.

"Hey, Toms?"

"Mhm?"

"My cell signal is about to get really bad. Give me half an hour, though, and I'll call you right back. Okay?"

"Okay, Wilby."

Tommy wasn't sure why his cell signal would be wonky, but he supposed it didn't matter. Wilbur was already too kind to him. He had bothered the man enough. He didn't expect to get a call back.

Tommy wasn't sure how long he'd been sat there. A couple of people had come in and out since he had arrived, and he's sure he saw a shift change a couple of minutes ago. It was strange, how unsure he suddenly was of everything. He was a big man, as he so often boasted, and big men don't get confused. He didn't feel like a big man, though. He felt as if the world was crashing down around him, much too big for a small kid like him.

His phone was ringing. Strange. He answered.

"Hey, sunshine," Wilbur greeted.

"Hi, Wilby," he whispered back.

"I'm only another hour away. Can you wait that long?"

That confused Tommy. Where was Wilbur heading? Why did Tommy wait? Wilbur was confusing.

"Wha'?" He mumbled instead.

"I'm coming to get you, bubs. You're coming home with me."

"Oh."

"That's okay, Toms. Are you alright with waiting that long?"

"Mhm."

"Okay, okay. That's good." Wilbur laughed, although it didn't sound very cheerful. Wilbur was being weird again. "How about you order yourself a milkshake, as well. Treat yourself, Toms. I won't be much longer."

"Can you- can you stay?" Tommy wasn't sure why he asked, or even where the question came from. Maybe he was just tired of being alone.

"Of course. I'll always be here for you. Now, go get yourself that milkshake."

He giggled, despite himself.

"Okay, Wilby."

He was just finishing up the last of his chocolate shake when Wilbur announced that he had pulled into the lot before hanging up. He quickly threw away his trash and rushed out into the cold, suddenly feeling as if energy was flowing through his veins. It was strange. He wasn't sure why he felt this way.

"Toms!" Wilbur exclaimed, nearly slamming his car door shut.

Tommy practically collapsed in his arms once he reached him, bag falling out of his slackened grip. Wilbur grasped him just as tight, if not more so, cradling his head to his chest. Wilbur smelt of honey and oak, with a faded scent of coconut reaching the barest edges of his senses. It was so, overwhelmingly _Wilbur_ , and it felt of _home_.

"Wilby," he whimpered into the plush fabric of the man's jumper, melting when he ran a soft hand through his blonde curls.

"Oh, sunshine. I'm here now. It's okay. We're gonna be okay."

"Mhm."

Tommy could feel his eyes slipping shut, warmth and safety enveloping his tired body.

"Let's go home, Toms. Let's go home."

Tommy's not sure if he nodded. He meant to, but his body seemed to be lagging, now, the brief burst of energy and excitement from before leaving his body just as quickly as it had arrived. Almost distantly, he could feel himself being maneuvered into the backseat of Wilbur's car, but he couldn't be certain.

"Sleep well, bubs."

And then he was out like a light. He was safe- that he could be certain of.

~

Tommy came to slowly- something he wasn't used to after his mother left. He was warm and the blankets that covered him were unbelievably soft. Even the plush pillow under his head was a luxury he had not been able to indulge in for far longer than he wanted to think about. He knew he wasn't going to be able to fall back into the clutches of slumber, despite how much he wished to, and resigned himself to sitting up.

The next thing to properly register, was that he was not in his room. In fact, the streaming set up across from him liked like _Wilbur's_. Strange.

"Oh! You're awake!" There stood Wilbur Soot himself in the doorway, arms laden with what looked like _breakfast_.

"Wha'?" He so eloquently managed to mumble. He rubbed his eyes, hoping to wash away whatever dream had decided to plague his waking hours.

"It's, uh, it's not much," Wilbur stated, apparently electing to ignore him. "I'm not the best cook, you see, but it _is_ breakfast."

"Wilbur, these eggs look like a war crime."

In truth, despite how awfully the eggs were cooked, and how the toast looked more black than like actual bread, Tommy had never seen anything look so delicious.

"Fuck off, ya gremlin." Wilbur fondly ruffled his hair. It was almost familiar, despite having only met Wilbur twice before outside of a screen. Tommy felt as if he could live in the moment forever.

"Eat your damn breakfast," Wil chuckled, shoving a plate and fork into his lap.

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, but he didn't hesitate to start shoveling it into his mouth. It was absolutely fucking horrid, and he's not sure how Wilbur managed to fuck up a basic breakfast like this, but he savored every bite. He hadn't had a homemade meal in so long, it was like a little bit of heaven.

"Christ, child. It's not going anywhere!" Wilbur spoke, words muffled through a forkful of eggs.

"Actually, I take that back. These are horrid. I don't blame you." Wilbur looked horrified at his plate of food, and Tommy almost spat out his toast at his expression.

"Wilbur, I'm pretty sure I felt a tooth crack. How the fuck did you make bread this _crisp_?" Wil just squawked, forgoing words, instead tossing his slice of blackened bread at his head. With cat-like reflexes, he managed to catch it in his mouth, tearing a piece off, trying not to wince at the crunch it made.

"My toast now, bitch."

They ate in relative silence after that, only the odd comment on how absolutely fucking horrendous breakfast was to interrupt the peace.

"Wilbur," Tommy started as he shoveled the last bit of eggs down his throat. "Never cook anything again."

"I second that," he muttered dejectedly.

"How the fuck do you _survive_?" Tommy asked next. If Wilbur couldn't make _toast_ , how did he eat regularly?

"Take out and TV dinners."

"That is so unbelievably dee-press-ring. I'm teaching you how to cook."

"The fuck do you know about cooking!?" Wilbur spluttered, face going a vivid shade of red.

"I cook for myself every meal. How else, bitch boy?"

"Oh." Wilbur looked much too sad, now. It was strange. Why was he upset? Did he say something wrong?

"I'm sorry, Wilby. I didn't mean to upset you." He ducked his head, refusing to make eye contact. Wilbur had been so _generous_ , and he just had to go and fuck it up. He couldn't do anything right. ( ~~He'd still be at home if he could.~~ )

"Oh, no, sunshine, look at me." Wilbur cupped his jaw, but he wouldn't budge. "Please, darling?" The brunette begged further.

Tommy finally relented, his teary, ocean eyes meeting Wilbur's watery, chestnut ones. He could feel his tears spill over as he gazed at his friend- his older brother in all but blood. There was no hint of malice or disappointment in his expression, only a deep sorrow and unconditional adoration. Wilbur swiped a gentle thumb over his cheek, wiping away a trail of salt.

"You're safe now, okay? I don't know what happened, but I can promise you that, bubs. Okay?" Tommy just nodded, practically collapsing in his arms when Wilbur pulled him forward into an embrace. It was awkward, him still being in Wilbur's bed while the man sat in a chair beside it, but it was everything Tommy had ever wanted and more. He reeked of breakfast gone bad, and Tommy wasn't sure if the man had showered and at least a week, but his arms were warm and his heartbeat was steady. Tommy wished the world could be like this forever.

"You're my little brother, Toms. I love you, you know that?" Tommy wasn't sure his tongue and brain would coordinate long enough for what he wanted to say, so he settled for nodding vigorously into the man's chest. He wanted to say it back- he really, _really_ did- but the sobs that racked his system slowed his mind to a halt, until all he knew was the soft coos and reassurances of his big brother, and the gentle hand running through his hair and up and down his back.

~

It was well past noon by the time Wilbur had finally gotten him out of bed. He didn't make him talk, which he appreciated more than he could reasonably voice, just remained there as a constant, comforting presence.

"Can- can we call Phil and Tech?" Tommy hesitantly spoke up, now half a season into Steven Universe.

Wilbur paused their show, detaching himself from Tommy ever so slightly, so that he could better look at the teen.

"You sure, sunshine?" Wilbur was being strange again. When his father asked, it was because he didn't want Tommy to do something. It was a threat- a warning- that he wouldn't like what would come if he tried. When Wilbur asked, though, it was nothing but soft reassurance, like he was concerned for Tommy and Tommy _only_.

"Mhm," he nodded. He still wasn't feeling very verbal- something he wasn't used to when with his friends ( ~~family?~~ ) but he wanted to hear their voices. Like it would cement the fact that this was real, and he wasn't lying half dead in his kitchen because his father-

"Alright. Do you wanna call them on my phone? Or do you wanna use my computer?"

"Wanna video call." He tugged lightly at the hem of Wilbur's sweater, ducking his head slightly. He wasn't sure why he felt embarrassed. Maybe it was because he wasn't used to asking for things. ( ~~Asking for something meant punishment.~~ )

"Alright, bubs." Wilbur drew him into his side for a moment, squeezing him tight. Somehow, Tommy could feel his nerves begin to melt away. "My laptop's on the kitchen table. do you want to use that so we can stay on the couch?"

"Mhm."

Tommy liked that Wilbur was giving him options. He didn't like open ended questions. They always made his mind blank, like his brain couldn't figure it out. His father didn't like that. He always wanted an answer- _quickly_.

"I'll be right back, okay?" Tommy just nodded, watching the man silently as he left the room, only to return a moment later, old, silver laptop in his lanky arms. Tommy never understood why he didn't just buy a new one. He was a bit of a hypocrite for bullying Techno. He didn't say anything as Wilbur sat back down, though, just snuggled back into his side, drawing the velvety blanket back up to his chin. Being curled up felt nice, like he was an armadillo hiding from the dangers of the world.

It wasn't long before he heard the tell-tale pings of Technoblade and Philza joining the call. Tommy wasn't sure when Wilbur had even booted up the laptop. Maybe he should pay attention more.

"Hello, mate," Phil greeted, followed up my Techno's signature _"Hullo."_

"Can we video chat?" He heard Wilbur ask, and he saw the screen light up with his friends' faces in lieu of a response. Wilbur turned his camera on next, and in awful, pixelated glory, was Tommy curled into Wilbur's side like a scared child, and a, quite frankly, exhausted looking Wilbur. Why hadn't he noticed how tired the man looked before?

"Oh," Phil blurted, though Tommy didn't blame the man. he just mumbled a quick greeting. Actually, Tommy wasn't sure _what_ he said, but it was meant to be a _'hello,'_ anyway.

"Hullo, Tommy," Techno said, unfazed as ever. Tommy envied the man, both in-game and in real life. Tommy wished he could watch the world go on around him with nary a care, but he couldn't. He couldn't just shrug the divorce off. Couldn't shrug the neglect. The screaming. The blaming. The punishment for things he didn't do. The raising himself in a household that was supposed to be _home_.

Tommy wasn't sure when he started crying.

There was a hand in his hair, something that had become familiar to him, despite having only been with Wilbur for less than a day. His throat ached and his eyes stung, but he was warm, and the heartbeat he could hear from the chest he was pressed against was soothing, its own, biological lullaby. Faintly, over the roaring in his own mind despite its silence, he could hear humming. It wasn't any tune he could name, but he felt himself latching onto it. He could register the barest hints of words as well, but they sounded garbled and muffled, so he didn't bother to try and focus on it.

"Can you look at me, sunshine?" There was a hand on his cheek, drawing his face up from the plush fabric it had been buried in. His vision was blurry, but he could make out Wil's soft smile and his warm, chestnut eyes.

"There you are, darling. My precious boy." Tommy would flush with embarrassment if he had the energy. "Can you breathe with me? I promise it'll make you feel better."

Wilbur took a big, exaggerated breath in, Tommy doing his best to copy. When Wilbur didn't exhale immediately, Tommy felt as if he would choke, but soon enough, he breathed out, and Tommy did so as well, though far quicker than the brunette would've liked.

"There you go. You're doing so good, darling."

Wilbur inhaled again, Tommy following close behind. He was able to hole it without as much hassle this time, but he still felt as if he would run out of oxygen by the time Wilbur allowed him to exhale. The fact that his shoulders were shaking with sobs and sniffles wasn't helping matters either. He reached blindly for the man's hand, cradling it to his chest tightly when he found it, leaning his forehead on his shoulder. Wilbur carded his free hand through his sweat slick, blonde curls, and Tommy would've purred if he could.

"Can you take one more breath for me, sunshine?" Tommy really didn't want to, but Wilbur was being so _nice_ , and the others really had lessened the pounding of his heart in his ribcage. He nodded shakily. He thinks he did, at least.

"Alright, alright. Good boy. In," Wilbur instructed, and then he paused for that awful, dreadfully long moment. "And out." He exhaled for a rather long time, and Tommy was almost exact.

"There you go, bubs. You did so good." One of his large, soft hands cradled his tear stained cheek. He leaned into the touch, eyes shutting involuntarily.

Tommy wanted to see Phil and Techno. He knew, logically, that Wilbur had likely closed the call, but he looked anyway. To his utter surprise, his friends were still there, look on with sorrowful smiles.

"Hey, Toms," Phil was the first one to speak up. His voice was more soothing than it had ever seemed to be before.

"Hi, Dadza," he rasped, collapsing back into Wil's embrace.

"Are you good, kid?" Techno asked. It made some unfamiliar, warm feeling flutter in his chest. He wasn't sure why. Maybe he should start asking Wilbur about these things. Wilbur knows everything.

"Mhm." He felt his eyelids start to droop, but he wanted to be able to see his friends. Wanted to know that they were there. ( ~~That he wasn't alone.~~ )

"Well, I see you're tired, kid, so we'll let you go, now." He knew Phil meant it to be sweet, but it still shot panic through him. He didn't want them to leave. He didn't want to be left behind.

"No!" He protested, tears once more welling in his baby blue eyes. "Don' go."

"Alright, kid. We won't go," Techno reassured. Tommy wished Techno and Phil were here on the couch with him. He wanted to be able to feel the heat of their bodies. Hear their heart beating. Watch the rise and fall of their chests. Hold their hands. He wanted his family to be tangible.

He stared at the screen as Techno, Phil, and Wilbur conversed idly. The rumbling of the brunette's chest, along with the gentle hand in his hair, is what did him in, in the end. He fell asleep to the sounds of his _family_.

~

"What do you want for dinner, gremlin?" Wilbur sighed, tossing a crumpled napkin at him. Tommy squaked, tossing it back, missing the man by a longshot. Wilbur snorted.

"Seriously, though. I'm _not_ cooking dinner after the disaster this morning."

"Wilbur, I think you even standing in the kitchen right now violates some kind of Gin-ee-vea convention."

"What the fuck does that even _mean_ , Mr. Innit.?"

"Shut the fuck up, _Mr. Soot._ I want pizza."

"Of course the child chooses pizza."

"Oi!"

"Don't 'oi' me. What do you want on it?" Wilbur was scrolling on his phone, now, no longer looking at him as Tommy pouted on the couch.

"Anything but pineapple is fine. Or mushrooms. Mushrooms are all fuckin' gross and shit."

"So anchovies are fine, then?" Wilbur looked up at him with a shit-eating grin.

"The fuck is an an-cho-bee?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Wilby- Wilbur, I _will_ start stabbin' shit."

"Aww, Tommy!" Wilbur cooed mockingly. "You can call me Wilby if you want."

"Shut the fuck up, bitch."

"No. The pizza will be here in forty five."

"Why do I feel like that should scare me?"

"It should," Wilbur cackled, scooping him up in his arms. Tommy shrieked, pounding at Wilbur's back as the brunette collapsed back into the couch.

"Put me down! Put me down!"

"I don't think I will."

"Wilbur, I swear to fuckin' _god_."

"Bastard child."

"I take offense to that!"

"You should." Wilbur pushed him onto the floor, clearly feeling no remorse as Tommy glared up at him from the carpet below. "Now go shower. You stink."

"You're the one that wanted to get all close and personal, fuckin' hypocrite," he grumbled, but began to head towards the stares nevertheless.

"Where's my bag?"

"All your's shit's in the wash. It got all wet when you dropped it last night. I'll set some clothes outside the door for you."

"Oh," Tommy flushed. "Okay."

"Towels are in the closet, by the way."

"Thanks," he mumbled before rushing up the stairs.

Tommy wasn't sure why he was so embarrassed. Maybe it was because he felt like a little kid, getting to finally exist in the same space as his idol. Maybe it was because Wilbur had been caring for him without expecting anything back. It was strange. He wasn't used to this. Tommy didn't like to think of why that was.

Tommy wasn't sure if he was allowed to use his got water. He knew he wasn't back home. But, Wilbur was _different_ and he _really_ wanted a hot shower.

Tommy flinched as he turned the hot water handle, as if his father would come storming up the stairs to beat him for wasting it. He halfway expected Wilbur to do the same. Instead, all he heard was a soft knock and Wilbur's comforting tone saying that he had left an outfit outside the door for him.

Tommy wasn't sure what to think.

~

"You look tiny."

"I'm a big man, bitch! It's not my fault you buy jumpers that are stupidly huge!"

"Awww," Wilbur cooed, cupping Tommy's reddened face in his stupidly large hands. "Tiny gremlin child! Teeny goblin! Itty bitty Tommy!" Tommy, of course, responded the only way he could- biting Wilbur's hand.

"Feral child!" Wilbur shrieked, shaking his hand as if it would dull the pain his teeth left.

"Where's the pizza?" Tommy pouted.

"You don't get any," Wilbur grumbled, glaring playfully.

Tommy _knew_ he was playing. Knew they were joking around as they always do. It still didn't stop the instinctual pang of terror that shot through his chest. He ducked his head and fiddled with the hem of Wil's iconic yellow jumper that nearly reached his mid-thigh. He knew apologies and pleas were slipping past his lips, but he couldn't hear them. He just had to go and fuck it all up, didn't he? There was a _reason_ his mom left and his dad booted him out.

"No no nono," Wilbur rushed, cupping his face once more, wiping his thumb across his cheek slowly.

"Can you look at me, bubba? Please, Toms." Tommy slowly tilted his head up, still not meeting his brother's ( ~~was he though? Did he deserve a family?~~ ) chestnut eyes. "I didn't mean it, I promise. I won't ever let you go hungry, okay? You're my little brother."

Tommy wasn't sure when his tears began to fall.

"Why am I like this Wilby?" He found himself asking. "Why can't I just-"

"It's not your fault, my darling boy." Wilbur pulled him close, cradling him like he were glass and would shatter if he let him go even a little. Tommy wasn't sure that comparison was all that far off from how he felt.

"Can we go eat?" Tommy muttered after a moment, still sniffling, with trembling hands clenched onto Wilbur's shirt.

"Of course, Toms. I even got us some brownies."

"You got brownies!?" Tommy didn't think his mood could change so fast. Wilbur soot truly knew the way to his heart- _sugar_.

"I have a feeling that I will come to regret that decision," Wilbur laughed, wiping his thumbs under Tommy's ocean eyes one last time, swiping away any remainder of the tears that had once fallen for the umpteenth time that day. "But yes."

"C'mon then, bitch boy!" Tommy shrieked, dragging Wilbur into the dining room.

And if Tommy ate nearly a whole pizza by himself, curled into Wilbur's side, that was between them. (Wilbur totally bragged to Techno and Phil later about how he was the superior, favorite brother.)


	2. hold me high above the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more content for you bitches uwu

Tommy knew, logically, that there would be a time when Wilbur would confront him. A time when he would have to explain himself. Explain his pain. He just didn't think it'd be so soon.

"Toms, I can't help you if I don't know what's going on," Wilbur begged, squeezing his hands tightly for a moment. "I'm trying my best, bubs, but I'm not perfect. I'm not a psychic."

"I don't-" Tommy whimpered, leaning forward slightly, so he could lean his forehead against Wilbur's collarbone.

"You don't have to tell me everything, sunshine. Just what you're comfortable with, right now." He brought a hand up to his blonde curls, and Tommy leaned into the touch.

"Mom left," he nearly whispered, clutching the fabric of Wil's pants tightly with one hand, gently tapping his fingers with the other.

"Dad said it was my fault. Said I- Dad didn't like that she left." Wilbur just cooed, wrapping an arm around his back, drawing him even closer.

"Dad didn't cook. Didn't go to the store. He drank all the time. Shouted. Hated me. Hated when I was too loud. Made me pay bills."

Tommy hated that he was crying again. Hated the ways the sting behind his eyes had become familiar, like an old friend. It made him feel weak. His father had always said that real men don't cry. Tommy couldn't count the number of times he'd broken down in the past three days on both of his hands.

"I don' wanna talk anymore, Wilby. I don't wanna," he sobbed.

"That's okay, baby. That's okay," he soothed. Wilbur scooped him into his lap, next, cradling him close. It was safe, in Wilbur's arms. _Wilbur_ was safe. He almost hated the ways that he never wanted to leave his big brother's arms. It made him feel weak. _Tommy_ was weak.

"You're okay, sunshine. I promise."

"Wanna call Tubbo," Tommy begged, still trembling in Wilbur's hold. His face was hot, and tears still poured down his cheeks while snot dribbled from his nose, but he wanted his best friend. ( ~~Is he really his best friend? Tubbo seems to enjoy talking to Ranboo far more than him.~~ )

"That's okay. We'll call him. Video chat, right?"

"Mhm."

He felt Wil lean forward to grab his laptop off of the coffee table, where it had been set this morning after a few more episodes of Steven Universe.

( _"Why don't you just turn on the TV, dumbass?_

_"Because then I'd have to get my glasses, you gremlin."_

_"Have you considered having better eyes?"_

_"Oh, fuck off."_ )

"Would you look at that, Toms. He's even online."

"Call," he whined, tugging on Wilbur's sweater.

"Alright, alright," the brunette chuckled before the familiar sound of ringing filled the room. Tommy waited with baited breath, wiping the remnants of his cry-fest from his face with the sleeves of another of Wilbur's stolen sweaters. (He had his clothes, but they weren't as comfortable and they didn't smell like Wilbur.)

"Wilbur? Oh! Hello, Tommy!" Tubbo greeted, spinning around in his chair, grinning at the camera. Tommy smiled back, something soft compared to his usual beam, but he had missed Tubbo. Missed seeing his fluffy brown hair, his crumpled hoodies, and they mess of his room that was always just off-camera when he streamed.

"Hi, Tubbo," he rasped, adjusting his positon in Wilbur's lap so he could see the screen better.

"Awefully clinginy there, aren't you, Big-T?" Tubbo teased, pulling on one of his hoodie strings.

"Fuck off," Tommy did _not_ giggle. (He did.)

"I missed you, Tubzo! We haven't talked in aaageees," Tommy whined.

"Yeah, yeah, Mr. Off-grid." Tubbo shook his head fondly, bringing a can of some energy drink Tommy didn't have the care to recognize to his chapped lips. "What've you been up to, big man?"

"Big man shit," Tommy joked, chest lighting up with pride when he felt Wilbur's chest rumble with muffled laughter.

"Of course," Tubbo rolled his eyes. "Oh! Wait!" He suddenly exclaimed, scrambling out of his chair and disappearing out of view. He came back seconds later, practically a blur with how fast he moved. He held up what he retrieved, taking up the whole screen.

"Look what I got you! I haven't sent it yet, but I will!" It was a red and white version of the matching hoodies him and Ranboo shared. Tommy wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. Instead, he decided to whine in typical TommyInnit fashion.

"Tubbo, Big-T, T-Bone, T-Money, _why?_ "

"Maybe I won't send it then," Tubbo pouted playfully, having tossed the hoodie back where he had retrieved it from.

"You're gonna send it."

"You don't know that."

"I will get my vlog knife."

"You don't have it in you."

"Say that again when you're at the other end of my knife, bitch."

"I will, coward."

They erupted in a fit of giggles, Tommy turning to bury his face back in Wilbur's chest as his shoulders shook with the force of them.

They talked for nearly three hours, playfully insulting each other, talking about what the SMP has been up to, and doing their best to make Wilbur the butt of their jokes.

"Mom wants me to go do chores," Tubbo groaned, dragging his feet off of his desk, scooting forward once more.

"See you later, Tubbs."

"Yeah, see ya later, Tommy boy." He hung up before Tommy could tell him off for the stupid nickname.

Tommy yawned, leaning back into Wilbur, the man's arms still wrapped around his middle. (Later, Wilbur would thank Tubbo for not mentioning how Tommy's face was streaked with tears.)

"I'm tired, Wilby," he grumbled, turning to bury his face in Wil's shirt. The man just laughed, bringing a hand up to run it through his curls.

"I'll let you nap after you eat some lunch, big guy."

"Not hungry," he whined, closing his eyes as he focused on his brother's steady heartbeat. His stomach chose that moment to betray him and growl loudly.

"I think you're lying."

"'M a big man. I never lie."

"Oh, come on, Toms. I'll even give you some oreos if you eat a sandwich." Tommy peered up at Wilbur, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"The birthday cake ones?"

"Yes, I'll let you have my birthday cake ones," Wilbur groaned.

"You really know the way to a man's heart, don't you, Wilby?"

"I swear to fucking _god_ , Tommy. I will push you off this couch."

"You won't."

"I won't," Wil sighed.

Tommy pushed his face back into Wil's collar, letting his eyes slip closed, exhaustion still wearing down on him. Crying was _tiring_ , and talking to Tubbo always used so much energy- not that that was a bad thing.

"Not yet, sunshine," Wilbur cooed, standing up, Tommy still in his arms. Tommy felt stupid, sat on Wilbur's hip like an infant, arms around his neck and legs around his waist. He whined, burying his face further, as if it would cool the flush that had risen to his cheeks.

Thanfully, he was sat at the table soon, Wilbur disappearing into the kitchen to make him a sandwich. (God, he hoped Wilbur's sand obsession didn't make itself known here. Knowing the fucker, he had some on hand just for a pun like this. He really needed to get Wil and Charlie to stop hanging out so much. Slime was a bad influence.) He felt bad, making Wilbur do all of the work for him. He had even sat mostly silent while he and Tubbo talked, and never once complained. He was being a nuisance, just like his father always said he was. Tommy wasn't sure why Wilbur cared. They weren't even related.

"Here you go, bubs" Wilbur smiled, breaking Tommy from his spiral. He sat down a paper plate, a plain ham and cheese with two of the promised birthday cake oreos to the side of it. It almost made him want to cry again.

"Thank you, Wilby," he murmured, ducking his head as Wilbur placed a soft kiss to his temple.

"Eat up."

~

There was a hand combing through his hair when he awoke. His mind still lagged, heavy with the gentle, encompassing fog of slumber. He was warm, and the pillow under his head was cozy. He didn't want to wake up, yet.

"F've m're min'tes," he grumbled, smooshing his face back into the memory foam he laid atop of, dragging the soft, fuzzy blanket he had been using up further.

"C'mon, Toms," Wilbur chuckled quietly. "You know you won't sleep well tonight if I let you rest any longer."

"Future pr'blem," he mumbled.

"Well, then I guess I'll just have to tell Phil and Techno we'll have to reschedule our movie night."

"What!?" Tommy nearly shrieked, sitting up far faster than his brain would have liked- the black spots curling at the edges of his vision could attest to that.

"No, no, it's okay," Wilbur teased, familiar, shit eating grin plasterd on his smug face. "You need your beauty sleep. I get it."

"Wilbyyyyy," he whined, tugging on the end of the man's sleeve.

"Are you gonna get up, then?"

"Yes!" he groaned. Wilbur ruffled his hair.

"C'mon, then. We may be able to convince Phil and Techno to watch Up, first."

"You think so?"

"Mhm. Might have to pull a few strings, but I'm sure we can."

It was then that Tommy spotted the old Uni sweater Wilbur had been sporting earlier that day on the back of his desk chair. Tommy pointed to it, eyes begging in a silent plea for it.

"Yes, you can wear my jumper, child."

Tommy pouted at the jibe, but scrambled to grab it, pulling it on over his signature baseball tee. It still smelt of Wilbur's coconut shampoo and his pine scented aftershave. the sleeves fell past the tips of his fingers, and it ended at his mid-thigh, but it was the comfiest piece of clothing he'd ever worn.

"Happy?" Wilbur asked, eyebrow raised.

"Mhm!" Tommy nodded, returning to the brunette's side.

"Well, come on then, ya gremlin. Before Techno gets distracted and forgets."

~

They were five movies in, now, and Tommy was much less interested in them now that he's already watched Up. They had eaten leftover Chinese from the previous night for dinner, and somehow, he was already feeling sleepy. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn't gotten much sleep back with his father, or maybe it was because Wilbur was warm against his side. Tommy couldn't be sure either way.

"I knew it," Techno grumbled as the 'plot twist' played out on screen. Tommy heard Phil chuckle through a mouthful of popcorn, and faintly heard Kristin say something to the blonde, but he wasn't really paying attention. Instead, he was busy fiddling with the tag at the end of the blanket he'd chosen to curl up under, his other hand twirling the long, soft fibers the blanket was covered in. He heard Wilbur say something, but he wasn't listening, his brain floating in space as he stared at the laptop scree, not really perceiving it.

"Tommy!" He was roused from his blank state by a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Huh?" he mumbled, eloquently, gazing up at his older brother with drooping eyes.

"You alright, Toms?" Wilbur asked, gaze soft.

"Mhm," he murmured sleepily, leaning even more into Wilbur. Wil cooed, bringing the hand that was on his shoulder up to mess with the mess of blonde curls at the nape of his neck, which most definitely did _not_ help with his exhaustion.

"Aww, I think it's someone's bedtime."

"Hnn, nooo," he whined, burying his face in Wilbur's collar bone, tugging the sleeves of his borrowed sweater back over his hands, taking comfort in the small action.

"Well, I think you look pretty tired, bubs. We can call Phil and Tech tomorrow, yeah?"

"Not t'red," He stressed. Although, the way his body slouched, unable to move as slumber threated to pounce disproved his begging.

"C'mon. Let's go to bed now. I'm feeling pretty tired too, sunshine." Tommy would've glared at the man, but his head felt too heavy to move from Wilbur's sternum.

"Goodnight, guys," he heard Phil chuckled from Wil's awful laptop speaker. He's sure Techno said something as well, recognizing his familiar rasp, but he couldn't make out the words. His brain was too foggy for that.

Tommy feels like he's done nothing but sleep during the time he's spent at Wilbur's, though. He wakes up late in the morning, naps during the day, and even goes to bed before midnight. He hated it. He felt like he was just taking up space, being nothing more than a burden. Hell, he was even making Wilbur sleep on the fucking couch- in his _own home_.

"Up you get," Wilbur chuckled, trying to get Tommy off of the couch, having closed his laptop and set it on the coffee table. Tommy just whined, wrapping his arms around Wilbur's neck, refusing to move.

"Aww, does wittle Tom Tom want to be carried?" Wilbur mocked, though even drowsy as he was, he could still hear the affection and adoration that laced his tone. Tommy just huffed, squeezing Wilbur tighter. He was _comfy_. He didn't want to move.

"Alright, you big baby. I _guess_ I'll carry you," the brunette sighed dramatically, though he didn't seem all that exasperated about it.

It was only another moment before he was being held for the second time that day, resting on Wilbur's hip. He felt stupid, but he also felt _safe_ , and that was something he wasn't quite ready to give up, yet. He just nuzzled the side of Wil's neck, the gentle rocking as they walked up the stairs lulling him even further into the welcoming grasp of unconsciousness. He was still aware enough, though, to feel Wil set him down and begin to walk away. Aware enough to whine loudly and grip the hem of the man's shirt. Aware enough to beg the man to stay with horribly slurred speech. Aware enough to feel at home in his big brother's arms as he finally fell asleep for the night.

~

"There's no way in hell I'm letting you do that."

"But why nooot," he whined, putting on the best puppy eyes he could manage. His endeavors were unsuccessful.

"Because it would raise too may questions, Toms." Wilbur's voice was uncharacteristically soft. "I just wanna protect you."

"I'm not a kid," he pouted. "I just- I just thought it'd be funny. Surprise the fans, you know." Now he felt all embarrassed and shit, having been shut down by the man who's opinion he valued the most.

"I just wanna stream," he whined. "I can't go to college, I can't stream, there's nothing to do outside the house because were in a- a pandemic."

"Tommy, I completely forgot about college," Wilbur panicked.

"Don't worry about it," Tommy mumbled, ducking his head and rubbing his arm awkwardly. "I wasn't really interested in it, anyway."

"What do you mean by that, sunshine?" Wil asked, sounding worried for a completely different reason. He pushed is eggs around with his fork, disinterested in them, despite them being properly made, this time. ( _'Thank you, Tommy,'_ he pat himself on the back. A week of cooking lessons later, and Wilbur was now able to make a semi-competent breakfast.)

"It's just," he started, not really sure how to explain how he felt. "I know I have friends there and shit, but it's like, I'm not really interested in the material? I mean, I _am_ , but I already know everything we're learning, 'cause I do this shit for a living, you know?"

"I get that, Toms."

"And I just- I chose this because I knew it would make sense with my career path, and it's not like I'm really that good at anything else, so I dunno why I can't just suck it up." Now he was lost in full ramble mode, eyes pricking with tears, despite the fact that he wasn't particularly upset about anything. He hated that about himself. He'd cry over anything, regardless if he was distressed or not.

"I just feel like I'm wasting my time. And I know it's stupid, but I really, really hate having to sit through every class, when I could be streaming or editing a new video. I can't even pay attention to it, And I try, I swear! It's just..."

"Hey, hey," Wilbur practically whispered, grabbing is hand and holding it gently. "That's okay."

"I _know_ it is. I don't know why-" he cut himself off, scrubbing at his face with his sleeve. 

"That's okay," Wil punctuated his statement by beginning to drag his thumb across Tommy's knuckles. "Sometimes our brain gets overwhelmed, and it needs to let it out."

"But I'm not even _upset_ ," he whined. 

"You don't have to be."

"This is _stupid_." He dragged his sleeve against his eyes one last time.

"I don't wanna talk about this, anymore."

"That's okay. Are you done with breakfast?"

He nodded, ducking his head, staring at the grain of the table instead of how _welcoming_ his brother's warm, chestnut gaze was. He felt as if he would cry, if he did. He was weak.

He heard the sink turn on through the wall behind him, Wilbur humming as he scrubbed their plates clean. An old, dark, familiar part of him was waiting to be dismissed from the table. Waiting to be instructed at every turn, so that he wouldn't be punished. He knew Wilbur was different. Knew Wilbur didn't care about such trivial things. He waited anyway.

"Sunshine? What are you still doing in here? Are you alright?" Tommy hunched, crimson creeping up his cheekbones.

"Di'n' dismiss me," he mumbled.

"Oh, baby. C'mere." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Wilbur open his arms in invatiation for a hug, and Tommy was _weak_. He practically rushed into his arms, curling up as best he could. His brother's arms wrapped around him, and they began to sway.

"You can do whatever you want as long as it won't put you in danger, okay? You don't have to worry about pleasing me or whatever. You can tell me when something's making you uncomfortable, as well. Let me know when I need to back off."

In response, Tommy wrapped his arms around Wilbur's neck, dragging the man down, face planted firmly just under his jaw.

"Oh, sunshine. I'll carry you anywhere," Wilbur cooed, leaning down ever so slightly, so that he could hoist his legs up around his waist. "There you go, bubs. Is that better?" Tommy just nodded, still not moving his face out of the darkness of Wilbur's neck. He didn't want to look the man in the eyes while he was being fucking _carried_ , even if he _really_ liked being held.

Wilbur walked them to his couch, leaning against its armrest as he kept Tommy in his lap. It was nice, being so entombed in everything Wilbur. It was like he was removed from the outside world, the only thing that mattered now was the steady rise and fall of the chest he rested on and the soft hand in is blonde curls.

"Y'know, baby, I was thinking abut convincing Phil to drive up here. We could make a day of it, yeah?"

Tommy had to admit, the idea sounded nice. His older brother and online father figure in the same space? He nodded into the brunette's sternum.

"I'll let him know, then." A kiss was pressed to the crown of his head.

It was strange, Tommy thought. He wasn't used to such open affection. It was always lined with a threat or a promise of _too much more_. Affection always had a price, be it broken ribs or bite marks trailing his pale flesh. Wilbur was different, though. Wilbur didn't ask for payment. Didn't drag his hands under his shirt or waistband, or throw his fists when he least expected it. Tommy wasn't sure how he was going to repay him.

"You wanna finish up Steven Universe?" Wilbur asked. Tommy nodded. He didn't like the silence.

~

"How long do I boil the noodles for?" Wilbur asked, voice strained with the stress of having to actually try and be competent in the kitchen.

"Go for eight or so minutes. Then throw one at the wall. If it sticks, it's done."

"I have to throw it at the wall!?"

"If it sticks, it's done," Tommy deadpanned, stirring the red sauce in the pan next to Wilbur. The man just buried his head in his hands, a groan slipping past his lips.

"You're dramatic."

"Shut the fuck up, child."

"Says the one complaining about boiling _noodles_."

"I don't wanna talk to you anymore."

"Then don't, bitch."

They sat in silence for a few minutes after that, the New Horizons soundtrack playing softly through Wilbur's speaker.

"Tommy!" Wilbur panicked. "What's it doing!? How do I stop that!?"

Tommy glanced over, seeing the water about to boil over the edges of the pot.

"Blow on it."

"Blow on it!? It's boiling water! It's not gonna cool off!"

Tommy sighed, shoving Wilbur out of the way so he could get to the noodles. He blew lightly, watching the foam that had nearly spilt over dissipate. He picked up the wooden spoon the man had discarded next, stirring them, watching the raging bubbles die down.

"See?" Tommy turned to Wilbur.

"Fuck off," Wilbur pouted. Tommy just rolled his eyes, reaching into a cabinet to get a couple of plates out.

"So I just... throw it at the wall?" Wilbur looked ridiculous, to be frank. Curls a frizzy mess from running his hands through it, unnecessary 'kiss the chef' apron tied around his pajamas (seriously, why did he have that?) and panic written across his face.

"You're hopeless."

"Oi!"

Tommy took the spoon out of the brunette's hand, drawing a noddle out of the pot with it. He tossed it at the wall, the starchy substance sticking to the tile backsplash for a moment.

"See? It sticks. They're done." He clicked the burner off, watching the gas flame disappear with disinterest. 

"Portion it out, yeah? And _not_ all of it. Some of that is dinner."

Wilbur grumbled, but listened anyway. Tommy felt accomplished, something he didn't truly feel often, despite his internet success. Here he was, finally able to teach _Wil_ something, instead of the other way around. It made something warm flutter in his chest. (Maybe it was his constant, almost desperate need for his older brother's approval.)

He turned off the gas under the sauce he'd been letting simmer, pouring it out over the noodles Wilbur had dished out. It was strangely domestic, he thought. It was something he'd really only dreamed about.

"Go set it on the table." He laughed as Wilbur continued to grumble like a petulant toddler.

There was something about this that settled an old, festering ache in his heart. Something that made him feel whole, despite the fact that he was just putting leftovers in tupperware so they could reheat it for dinner. Maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that his _family_ was with him.


	3. it's all too much but you're always just enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things aren't always perfect, but that's okay too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay y'all this is a HEAVY chapter. MAJOR TW for //heavily implied/referenced sexual abuse/rape// it is the final section of this chapter, so if you want to skip it, once you reach the big block of italics, STOP

Tommy knew that something was wrong the moment he awoke. Well, it wasn't that something was _wrong_ , per se, everything just felt... _off_.

The blanket he had claimed his first night here, one he adored for its soft texture, suddenly felt rough. Even the pillow under his head felt like a slab of concrete, and his sheets felt coarse, like gravel had been infused into the linen.

He shoved everything off of him quickly, nearly falling to the floor in his haste to get away from it all. He was almost upset that he didn't get the luxury of coming to slowly, but the grainy carpet under him irritated his skin and made him want to scream.

He could feel tears pricking at his eyes as even Wilbur's normally soft sweater and his favorite pair of shorts felt like acid on his skin. Even his _skin_ felt too tight, the air against it like burning needles stabbing into it.

He whimpered as he tugged at his hair, still scrambling to get away from all the sensations that threatened to overwhelm him. His back hit the wall, though, and nothing had changed.

"Wilby!" He cried, wincing as the wail clawed at his eardrums like nails on a chalkboard. Even from here, he could hear Wilbur's pounding footsteps as he bounded up the stairs, each _thump_ echoing through his head a thousand times over. He wanted it to _stop_.

"Tommy!?" Wilbur shouted as he threw the door open, and Tommy _wailed_. Everything was so _loud_ \- even _himself_. Everything hurt and he wanted it all to disappear.

"Wilby," he sobbed, repeating the mantra despite how it grated on his ears and rubbed his throat raw. He rocked back and forth in his space on the ground, the repetitive motion somewhat soothing to his overwhelmed mind.

"Oh, baby, what happened?" He _knew_ Wilbur was whispering, but it sounded as if he were screaming. He _hated_ it. Hated the fact that Wilbur even crouching in front of him made his skin tingle with promise agony. Hated that he couldn't hide from this in his brother's embrace, despite how badly he wanted to.

" _Bath,_ " he wheezed, tugging at his sweater with vigor He wanted it off _off off offoffoffoff-_

"Okay, okay," Wil murmured, words echoing through his head. "Up you get, baby. C'mon." He held a hand out to him, but Tommy flinched at the promised contact.

"Can't can't can'tcan'tcan'tcan't-" he gasped, pushing himself further into the wall, even though it felt like sandpaper.

"I"m sorry, I'm sorry," Wilbur whispered as he scooped him up in his arms, continuing the chant as Tommy _shrieked_ , the contact, even through the fabric of his sweater, feeling like burning hot coals tearing his very cells apart.

He sobbed, choking on his own tears as they moved through the house, but even so, the touch _never stopped_. Eventually, he was granted with relief- somewhat, at least- by being set on the cool porcelain of the toilet seat in the bathroom. The roaring rush of the water flowing out of the faucet in the bath sounded like the crash of a tsunami in his ears, and it made him want to scream again. Instead, he resigned himself to squeezing his hands over his ears, even if it felt horrid, and rocking as best he could where he sat.

After what felt like hours of torture, the crash of the water finally stopped, and Wilbur was back in front of him.

"The- the water's ready, sunshine. Let's get you in, okay?"

He whined as his sweater was peeled off of him, the fabric rubbing his skin raw- or what felt like it, anyway- Wilbur whispering apologies all the while. His shorts were removed next, Wil allowing him to keep his dignity by only looking at his face. He was dragged off the seat, stumbling as he was led the scant few feet to the lukewarm bathtub.

He nearly sobbed in relief as he sunk into the welcoming water. Water was _nice_. Water was _safe_. It was simple in nature, sloshing gently against his skin, never asking too much from his hyperactive nerves.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, but eventually, Wilbur returned ( _when did he leave?_ ) and a set of noise cancelling headphones was sat over his ears. He could've melted right then as every little noise from the world around him faded into blissful silence. He watched, numbly, as Wilbur set what must have been no less than ten candles on the counter, lighting them, pleasantly surprising Tommy with their lack of scent. The brunette turned the harsh light off next, and Tommy hadn't realized how much of a strain it had been on his senses.

He whined as Wilbur went to leave the bathroom, wanting his brother to stay with him, even if he couldn't curl up in his arms like he so desperately wanted to. Wilbur shot him a soft look but left anyway.

Tommy wanted to cry.

Wil came back a moment later, book and hand, and sat by the tub. Tommy had never been so relieved.

He laid his head on the edge of the tub by Wilbur's shoulder, finding relief in the way the cool metal squished against his burning cheek. It was nice, still being by his big brother. Nice as he sat in the chilling tub, water gently caressing the plains of his sensitive skin. Nice as the dim light of the candles lit up just enough to see, but their warm light never turned to daggers that stabbed at his skull.

It was enough to fall asleep, exhausted from the constant overstimulation he'd woken up to. And sleep he did.

~

When Tommy awoke, the water in the tub had long gone cold, and the candles that had sat on the counter had mostly been extinguished. The headphones he had been wearing had slipped somewhat, leaving them half hanging onto him, and Wilbur was nowhere to be found. There was an outfit laid out on the toilet, and he could recognize Wil's yellow sweater and a pair of the man's soft, fuzzy, pink pajama pants.

He winced as he stood, joints aching from staying in such a cramped position on a hard surface. He set the headphones on the back of the toilet, stretching to reach his towel on the hook next to the tub. The fabric didn't alight his nerves, and he felt a wave of relief wash through him at that.

He quickly dressed himself, extinguishing the rest of the candles and draining the tub before leaving the room, quietly padding downstairs in hopes to find his big brother. He may not feel as if the world was against him anymore, but he still wanted the comfort of Wil after the disaster that was this morning.

He found him in the kitchen, humming to himself as he slathered mustard on a thin slice of wheat bread. He nearly scared the brunette half to death when he crashed into his side, trembling as he clutched onto the man's t-shirt.

"Hey, baby," Wilbur murmured, carding a hand through his blonde curls after wrapping him in a tight embrace. They swayed as Tommy sniffled, gently knocking his head against Wilbur's sternum, taking great comfort in the action.

"Shh, it's okay," Wil soothed.

It took a few minutes, but Tommy calmed himself enough to pull away from his brother's hold.

"Ca- can you make me a sandwich too?" He squeaked, ducking his head as crimson rushed to his cheeks. He _loathed_ asking for things. Hated it with every fiber of his being. It had been trained into him to be independent, after all.

"Of course, Toms," Wilbur chuckled, ruffling his hair before he stepped away.

Tommy sat himself on the counter, swinging his legs absently as he fiddled with the whisk that had been laying nearby for some reason- probably Wilbur moving it while looking for something and forgetting to return it. He twirled the utensil through his fingers as he listened to Wilbur work, the opening of containers, the crinkle of the bread's packaging, and the gentle scrape of metal against the spongy substance was almost comforting, in a way.

"Here you go, love." Wilbur smiled as he handed him a paper plate. It was his favorite, a plain ham and cheese, but it made his lips tug all the same.

"Thanks, Wilby," he murmured.

"Of course. Eat up, bubs."

He quickly tore into it, feeling starved after missing breakfast (and the snack he usually had around eleven or so.) It was plain and simple, full of nothing but processed, store bought items, but it was heaven all the same. (Anything Wilbur made always felt that way, no matter its quality.)

"Hey, Wilby?"

"Mhm?"

"Wha- what happened this morning? I don't..." He trailed off, shoving the last bit of his sandwich into his mouth.

"Sensory overload." Wilbur looked sad as he said it, chestnut eyes soft and sorrowful, the lines in his face heavy with guilt

"Wha's that mean?"

"You know how everything was just... too much?"

"Mhm."

"That was your brain getting all overwhelmed and shit. Taking in too much information at once, making everything seem a thousand times worse."

"But I- I just woke up?" He hadn't _done_ anything to get overwhelmed. He'd even had a peaceful night's sleep, wrapped up in Wilbur's arms like he'd gotten used to over the past few days.

"But you've been super stressed leading up to this, yeah?"

"I... yeah." He ducked his head, fiddling with the hem of his sweater, bringing one of his sleeves up to nibble on.

"That's okay." Wilbur sat a gentle hand on his knee, drawing him in to rest his head on his shoulder.

"You're a good kid, Toms. None of this is or ever will be your fault, alright?" Tommy nodded, more to please his brother than him actually agreeing with him.

"I want you to come to me if something's making you uncomfortable, or you're scared, or _whatever_. You don't have to talk, but I just want to make sure you're okay. Okay?"

"Okay, Wilby." He whispered.

"I love you." Wil pressed a kiss to his temple.

"I love you, too."

~

"Wilby?" Tommy asked, peeking his head out into the doorway, watching as Wilbur paused his conversation on the phone. He felt horrible for interrupting, but his brain was being all wonky again, and he didn't want to sit and stew in his guilt for any longer than he already had. He watched as Wil mumbled something into the phone before setting it down on the kitchen counter and beckoning him over.

"What's up, sunshine?" Wilbur smiled, cupping his slightly flushed cheek with a soft hand.

"Feel bad," he murmured, flicking his gaze to the floor. Wil cooed, pulling him to his chest and cradling him close. Tommy hated how warm it made him feel. ( ~~He didn't deserve Wilbur.~~ )

"Do you wanna talk? Or a distraction?"

"H- hold?" He squeaked, feeling his face heat up as the words slipped past his tongue without his permission.

"Of course, baby." Wilbur just grinned at him, guiding his lanky arms around his neck, and scooped him into his hold. It was familiar, his spot on Wilbur's hip, and he almost hated it. He was _sixteen_ for fucks sake. He didn't need to be carted around like an _infant_. Except, his brother's arms were _safe_ , and that was a feeling that he could never get enough of, no matter how he tried to deny it. The world was cruel, but Wilbur was not. Wilbur would keep everything away that would ever dare to hurt him, and Tommy _trusted_ him to.

It was strange, trusting. It hadn't been something that he knew much about, besides maybe the theory of it. Years under his father's cruel hands had thought him that no one is to be relied on. But yet, he couldn't help but lean on Wilbur and expect him to stay steady. He really, really wasn't used to that.

"Who're you talking to?" He yawned as Wil sat them on the couch.

"Hm? I was just talking to Phil. Nothing all that important."

"M'kay." Tommy didn't believe Wilbur one bit. But, that was okay. Wilbur would tell him if he needed to know. (There goes that strange _'trust'_ thing again. Tommy wasn't sure if he hated or loved it. Only time would tell, he guessed.)

"'M tired." Wilbur chuckled, the rumble of his chest soothing where his face was pressed against it.

"I guess it is getting pretty late, hmm? It's almost midnight."

"I don't wanna go to bed, though."

"Why not, sunshine?" Wil asked, carding his long fingers through his blonde curls.

"Wanna spend more time with you."

Tommy knew he'd never _dare_ say anything so _sappy_ if he were in his right mind. But, as it stood, slumber was threatening to drag him into its murky depths.

"Oh, baby. I'll be right here in the morning, you know that."

"Wanna stay up, Wilby. _Please_."

"Alright, baby. Alright," he conceded, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. "Don't tell Phil, though. He'd have my head." It drew a giggle out of him, the idea of Phil scolding Wilbur hilarious to his sleep deprived mind.

"How about we watch a movie? I'll even make us some popcorn."

"Okay, Wilby."Tommy smiled softly, nuzzling his face into Wilbur's collar, tightening his arms where they were still looped around the man's neck.

Tommy didn't even make it to the title screen by the time Wilbur had put a random film on. He had his big brother by his side, and that's all that his racing mind needed to finally drift off into dreamland

\\\//////\\\\\\\\\//

_"Since your mother won't listen, I guess I'll have to go with the next best thing," his father purred in his ear, his large, callused hands gripping his hips with bruising force. He could practically taste the alcohol his breath reeked of, his skin moist where the man continued to breathe wetly against it._

_It was a blur after that. A blur of hands, teeth, and far too much pain that he had long since gotten used to. He was his father's to use, and that was alright. He deserved it. It was his duty, since his mother wouldn't. That's what father always said, and why would he lie?_

_This time felt different, though. The hands on him no longer felt as rough and heavy, and he dared to open his eyes that he had squeezed shut, as was custom when his father got like this. He expected to see his father's twisted, sweaty, panting face, once that would always be ingrained in his memory despite how much he wished he could forget it. Instead, it was **Wilbur's**_ _soft grin and messy curls that stared down at him. His kind, chestnut eyes were lined with honey, and his grin was feral. His touch was soft, yet it still **hurt** all the same, pace fast, and the normal, gentle lines in his face were filled with the need for **more**_ **.**

_He screamed._

He awoke in a thrashing pile of limbs, throwing himself off of the couch and out of Wilbur's arms. The faint light from the TV that had never been switched off illuminated the room just enough, so that every shadow was a new hand reaching to grab him.

He choked on his own sobs, shoulders shaking as he backed himself into the wall, knocking his head back against it. He wanted to run, to hide, but he couldn't move more than this. More than he had. Couldn't move as Wilbur approached him, eyes wide and irises lined with worry. Couldn't move as his nightmare continued to overlap with reality, leaving him unsure if he had woken up, or if it was even a dream in the first place.

"What happened, Toms?" Wil whispered, crouching in front of him, arm raised ever so slightly, like he wanted to rest a hand on his knee, but refrained.

"BAd. BadbAdbad bad bAD-" he ranted, voice breaking, continuing to knock his head against the wall. He needed- he didn't know what he needed, actually. He wanted to curl up in Wilbur's arms, but suddenly he was terrified that his hands would stray and his hips would be marked with his black and blue fingerprints, as they had so often been marked with his father's.

"I need you to breath, sunshine," Wil said next, hands still hovering. Tommy hadn't even realized the way oxygen had been stuttering in his chest. He gasped another breath in, only to choke on it and cough it back out, doubling over as his chest lit with raging agony.

"Hey, hey, let's follow my breathing, okay? Can I touch your hand, Tommy?" He nodded his head. Holding his hand was fine. He could do that.

Gently, almost delicately, Wilbur grasped his left hand in his own, slowly bringing it to his chest. He rested the palm flat, and began to take large, heavily exaggerated breaths. Almost on instinct, Tommy followed, albeit in a much rougher pattern.

He refused to look the brunette in the eyes, afraid that he'd get another glimpse of the bitter honey that had taken residence in his dreams. Instead, he focused on the way his hand rose and fell in time with Wilbur's chest, almost mesmerized by the way he could feel the rapid beating of his heart.

"You're doing so good, baby. So good."

Tommy wanted to flinch at the pet name. It had been one his father had used when he- But it sounded so different coming from Wilbur's mouth. It was said with reverence, like Wilbur was focused on Tommy and him only, no other vile thoughts plaguing his head. It wasn't panted or grunted out, a half delirious, moaning mess with alcohol staining his breath. It wasn't accompanied by teeth trailing his flesh, or hands _roaming_ and _taking_ and _bruising_. It was soft and kind, said with an air of home, like a pan of fresh baked cookies. It wouldn't leave his back aching in the morning, and it certainly wouldn't leave him feeling as if he wished the world would finally crush him with its weight, sending him on a fast track to the afterlife.

" _Papa_ ," he cried, letting himself fall forward into Wilbur, nearly bowling them over as he caught the man off-guard.

"Shh, I've got you. You're okay, sunshine," he soothed, rubbing a kind hand up and down his back, never straying too far or lingering too long. "I'm never gonna let you get hurt. Ever again. Not on my watch."

Tommy would've sobbed harder, if he could. Instead, he just gripped Wilbur's shirt with all the force he could muster, and _wailed_. Wailed for the child who watched as their mother lost hope, day after day. For the kid who was forced to pay for all that their mother couldn't handle and so much more. For the kid who never knew what love was. The child that never got to be. For the lost little soul that just wanted to be held above the world and told that it'd be alright.

"Nothing's gonna harm you," Wilbur began to sing, voice still raspy with sleep, but Tommy clung onto the sweet notes all the same. "Not while I'm around."

"Nothing's gonna harm you, no sir, not while I'm around."

Tommy was _home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also, I HIGHLY recommend baths for sensory overloads. It's not perfect, but the simplicity of water really is a relief compared to just about everything else. I cannot stress the importance of LUKEWARM enough though


	4. the world isn't kind, but you have my back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> seals were the greatest animal in the world, and no one could tell him otherwise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter is a bit more coherent than the others

Tommy was nervous. Well, he wasn't sure if _nervous_ was the right word. Phil was coming over today, and Tommy had not been able to stay still. His leg was bouncing, his hands were moving- whether they were snapping, clapping, or fiddling with something- and his heart was just shy of beating out of his chest. So, alright, maybe nervous _was_ the right word.

He wasn't even sure _why_ though. He'd met up with the man before! This wasn't anything _new_. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that this situation was, in almost every way, _different_. He's been _living_ with _Wilbur_ , dealing with the fact that his childhood was, in fact, _not_ normal, and now he was going to see someone who'd only ever really seen TommyInnit, not the scared, lonely boy that was just Tommy.

He knew, logically, that Phil would care for him all the same, but nerves cared not for the cold, unfeeling facts of reality. Instead, they kept their ground by rooting themselves into every insecurity that he had rattling around in his brain. Hell, he didn't even know he was worried about half the things he was worried about, until he started worrying about them!

Would Phil care that he was dressed in Wilbur's clothes? Would he care that it made him look small and pathetic, like a child hiding from the world in their ~~dad's~~ big brother's clothes? Would Phil care that he didn't talk all that much in person? That he moved constantly? That he craved physical affection like a fish needed water? That his left ear was a little lower than his right one, or that his arms were a little on the long side? Maybe he'd think that Tommy was horrible for... well, he didn't know- but there could be _something_. He was _constantly_ fucking up. He was bound to disappoint the man _somehow_.

"It'll be fine, sunshine. I promise," Wilbur chuckled, ruffling his hair.

"I know that!" He whined, shoving his face into Wilbur's shoulder so he didn't have to look at his stupid, caring face anymore.

"Me brain's just being all fuckin'... stupid 'n shit."

"Well, how about this," Wil started, taking his hand gently. "If you feel uncomfortable at any point, you tap my hand three times, and I'll get us out of there. Okay?"

"But... okay."

"Now, go get dressed, ya gremlin." Wilbur tugged him away from his shoulder, beaming. "They'll be here in an hour, and it wouldn't do to still be in our pajamas, ay?"

"I want your Uni jumper."

"Fine," Wil groaned playfully. "You can borrow it for today."

"We'll see about that," Tommy teased before launching himself off of the couch and bolting upstairs, cackling at Wilbur's shout of _"The fuck is that supposed to mean!?'_

Tommy got dressed quickly, throwing on a pair of jeans, a plain shirt, and Wilbur's Uni sweater. He brushed his teeth again for good measure as well, before trying to comb through the mess that was his hair. He was unsuccessful, as usual. Honestly, he wasn't sure how Wilbur did it. Regardless, he sighed and brought his hairbrush downstairs to Wilbur, who had, somehow, gotten dressed far faster than he had.

"Brush my hair, bitch boy."

"I'm hurt. Not even a please?" Wilbur teased, already adjusting his position on the couch so Tommy could sit on the floor in front of him.

"This is a hostage situation," Tommy joked back, leaning so that his back was resting against the couch.

"Oh, is it now?" Wilbur laughed, beginning to drag the brush through his blonde curls.

"Mhm." Tommy could never get enough of the feeling of Wil brushing his hair. It was nice. Made him feel like a little kid again, relying on his mother to do things for him. Instead, though, it was his ~~papa~~ big brother.

"So," Wilbur began a few moments later. "I was thinking that we get lunch first, and then we head to the aquarium."

"That sounds nice," Tommy smiled. He hadn't been to an aquarium before. He wondered what they were like. He'd seen pictures, of course, but those never compared to the real deal.

"D'you think they have seals?" Ever since Wilbur and him had started watching nature documentaries (he wasn't sure why they started, but they were neat) he had fallen in love with the seal. It was such a cute creature, in his opinion. Like a really big sea puppy.

"Mhm. If we get there before one, too, we get to see their playtime."

"We're getting there before one."

"I wouldn't dream of missing it."

Wilbur had finished detangling his hair, but he still dragged the bristles through his curls, enjoying the moment. Tommy sighed in content as he relaxed fully, enjoying the gentle motions. Eventually, Wilbur set the brush down and began to scratch at his scalp with his blunt fingernails. Tommy didn't mind, feeling his nerves essentially melt away.

"Wh'n are they gon' be h're?" He mumbled, eyes struggling to stay open.

"We still have about forty five. They got stuck in traffic, though, so it's probably still closer to an hour."

"Mmm, can I nap?" Wilbur chuckled at that, helping to drag him up onto the couch so he could lay on top of him, head nestled on his chest.

"Rest well, sunshine. I'll wake you when they get here."

"You b'tt'r."

~

"Hey, sunshine," Wilbur spoke quietly, chest rumbling lowly, one of his hands in his hair. Tommy groaned, smooshing his face into Wil's sternum, doing his best to mutter something about _'five more minutes.'_

"Aww, but don't you want to say hi to Mumza and Dadza?"

"Hmm?" He hummed as he sat up, rubbing his eyes with his baggy sleeve in a futile attempt to wipe away some of the heavy fog of slumber that threatened to take him back under.

"C'mon, bubs. Let's go get you a glass of water before they're here."

"Hm, comfy," he mumbled, shoving his face into Wilbur's collar.

"I know," Wilbur cooed. "But you'll never get to see the seals if you don't get up!" Tommy responded by wrapping his arms around the brunette's neck. 

"Aww, okay, baby."

Wilbur scooped him into his arms, settling him on his hip like he had grown so used to during his stay here, before setting him on the counter when they reached the kitchen. Wil quickly filled a glass with water before handing it to him. The man had to practically hold the glass for him as he took a slow sip, his tired body still weak with slumber, unable to hold the cup properly.

"There we go, baby," Wilbur murmured as he took the now empty glass away. "Better?"

"Mhm."

As if by magic, there was a knock on the front door. Wilbur beamed at him, ruffling his hair.

"C'mon, sunshine. Let's go say hello to the Minecraft family."

"M'kay," he yawned as he hopped off of the counter, stumbling a bit. They made their way the few meters to the door, the nervous excitement from before returning full force.

"Philza!" Wilbur yelled as he swung the door open.

"Hello, Wilbur," Phil chuckled, him and his wife entering once Wil beckoned them inside with enthusiastic gestures.

Tommy waved shyly from his position a bit away. He wasn't sure why he was so quiet, so nervous. He wasn't like this the first time they had met up.

"Hello, Tommy," Kristin greeted, smiling softly.

"Hi," he nearly whispered, the corners of his lips tugging upward involuntarily.

"Can I get a hug from the big man himself?" Tommy giggled, coming forward to wrap the woman in a hug. It was warm and welcoming, and Tommy could feel his reignited nerves slither off to the dark corners of his mind once more.

"Oh? Are those some new shoes?" She asked as they pulled back, her hands still resting on his shoulders.

"Mhm!" He beamed, brightening up considerably. "Wilby bought me some new ones. Said my old ones weren't good enough for him." He faked wiping a dramatic tear from his eye, giggling as he received a playful shove from the man.

In all honesty, though, his old ones were pretty bad. One of the soles had been held together through force of will and probably black magic. Now, though, he had bright, pastel pink converse, still shiny. Wilbur had let him choose, as well. It had been a toss up between the red and pink ones, but he went with the pink. He thought they looked nice.

He hugged Phil next, burying his face in the man's neck as he relished in the embrace. It was still awkward, having to lean down a bit, but it was lovely nevertheless.

"Good to see you again, mate."

"Mhm!" Tommy nodded, shoving himself back into Wilbur's side once greetings were over with.

"C'mon, ya gremlin," Wilbur ruffled his hair. "Let's go."

"Fuck off, old man."

"I am _not_ old!"

~

  
Wilby, Wilby, Wilby! Come ooooon,' Tommy whined, practically dragging the brunette along while Phil and Kristin laughed at his predicament.

"We have plenty of time, child."

"But I wanna see them nooooow!"

"Alright, alright!" Wilbur conceded, a chuckle ghosting past his lips. "We can go see the seals."

Tommy grinned, although no one could see it due to their masks. This was going to be the _best day **ever**_.

Tommy could see the exhibit come into view, doing all he could to not sprint over to it. Could you blame him? He was finally going to see a _real_ seal.

"Wilby, Wilby, look!" He giggled, watching as the seals swam around in their tank. The glee he felt bursting in his ribcage was something he wasn't used to. Wasn't used to the childlike joy that thrummed through his veins. The grin that threatened to split his face in half was foreign, but it wasn't unpleasant. It was something he never wanted to let go of.

One of the seals came up to the glass in front of him, squishing its face against it as they stared at each other. He waved, watching with awe as it followed it, wiggling where it swam. He moved his hand a little wider, giggling as it still followed.

"Looks like you've made a new friend, Toms," Phil chuckled as he came up beside him. Unbeknownst to him, Kristin was behind the three males, taking a video of the interaction.

"Wilby, I have a new best friend. You've been demoted."

"I can't believe I've been beaten out by an _animal,_ " Wilbur huffed, though the mirth in his tone didn't go unnoticed.

Tommy just continued to play with the seal, eventually attracting the attention of another one, who joined in on their 'game.' This was, no contest, the best day of his life, and by the gods would he never forget it. 

It got even better when the show started. The two left to go play with the toys they had been thrown, a couple of handlers out as well to encourage the animals to do tricks. Tommy was entranced, and he never wanted to leave. Eventually, it came to an end, and Wilbur was dragging him off to another exhibit, ranting about sharks or something.

Even as he gazed at the leopard sharks swimming about in their tank- something Wilbur was absolutely fascinated by- he felt on top of the world.

"I wonder what it would be like to be a shark," he spoke aloud. It was a stupid, nonsensical question, but he had thought of it nevertheless.

"Boring," Phil laughed, while Wil spoke over him with an enthusiastic _"Awesome!"_ Kristin just chuckled at the two bickering adults, resting her hand on Tommy's shoulder. It was nice, her constant, comforting presence. Almost motherly, if he had to give it a name. She gave him his space as he explored, and was there by his side when the crowds of people made him nervous. It was nice, having someone other than Wilbur there, as much as he loved the man. It was like another void in his heart had healed, one he hadn't even realized was there.

~

"Wilby look! They've got a gift shop!" He exclaimed, clutching onto Wilbur's arm.

"Mhm. You want anything, sunshine?"

"Gonna get a plushie. It's gonna be so much cooler than your orca," he teased, dragging Wilbur into the shop while Phil and Kristin gazed on fondly.

"Excuse you, mister, nothing is better than my orca."

"I'll have to disagree, _sir_ ," Tommy laughed, picking up a leopard seal plush. It was big, and he adored it. It was big enough to wrap his arms around, and was almost to his knees when he held it to his chest.

"You want that one?" Wil asked, eyes crinkling, a dead giveaway that the man was smiling.

"Mhm!"

"Give it here, then. I'll go pay for it."

"But you paid for my shoes!" He whined. "I make plenty of money."

"Don't care. Gimmie."

Tommy pouted but handed it over, ducking when Wilbur tried to ruffle his hair for the umpteenth time that day.

He padded over to Phil and Kristin, who were looking at keychains- you know, typical old man shit. Of course he made fun of the man for it.

"I am _not_ that old," Phil retorted fondly.

"You're twice my age, old man. You better write me into your will."

"Oh, hush," Phil laughed.

"You even talk like an old man, ya geezer."

"You know, Tommy," Kristin stated slyly, gently bumping shoulders with him. "I think you may be to something." He giggled, nodding along conspiratorially.

"I can't believe you'd team up on an old man like this."

"You admit it!" Tommy cackled.

"Yeah, yeah," Phil sighed. "Now go find us a souvenir. I'm putting this in your trusty hands."

"Ah, there's no one you can trust more than the big man himself."

"Of course, Toms," Kristin squeezed his shoulder before leaning in close. "Make sure to get Phil something embarrassing. Can't have the old man walking around with something cool." He nodded vigorously, eyes alight with mischief. He shared one last knowing look with Mumza before heading off into the depths of the gift shop.

He scanned the racks of key chains and bad wallets, the occasional brightly colored hat catching his eye. Nothing seemed right, though. It wasn't the _perfect_ souvenir.

While lost scanning through cheezy shirts, he failed to notice the footsteps behind him. Ones that stopped when they got to him. He noticed the hands on his waist, though. The hot breath that ghosted the shell of his ear.

"What's a pretty young thing like you doing all alone?"

"Leave me alone," he stated firmly, trying not to let his hands shake or his breath pick up.

"Why, I just thought I'd give you some company." He wasn't doing this again. He could already feel the ghost of his father encasing him, threatening to drag him back to the darkest recesses of his mind.

"Wil!" He shouted, trying not to think of how many families he was likely disturbing by being so loud. The man only crowded closer at the shout, hands tightening where they gripped his hips.

"That wasn't necessary, little boy."

The sound of thundering footsteps reached his ears, and he would have collapsed in relief if it wasn't for the tension strung through every tendon in his body, the man having never moved an inch.

"If you don't get your hands off my boy this instant, you will regret the day you decided to leave your mother's womb." Tommy wanted to cry. Wilbur was here. Wilbur would keep him safe- he had _promised_.

"Alright, alright. I don't want any trouble." The hands let go of his hips, and the looming presence against his back retreated. He melted into Wil's arms as the brunette grabbed him, clutching onto the man's shirt like his life depended on it.

"Leave," Wilbur growled, but he didn't care to pay attention to anything else. He was already a sobbing mess, and he was embarrassed about breaking down in such a public space, but he had been so _scared_ \- terrified, really.

"Papa," he cried, trying to get impossibly closer to Wilbur.

"It's okay now, baby. I'm here. I won't let anything or anyone get to you," Wil soothed, dragging a steady hand up and down his back.

"Wanna go home, papa," he whimpered. "Wan' go home."

"I know, I know."

He just continued to sniffle as he was lifted onto Wilbur's hip. He distantly wondered when Wilbur was going to laugh and call him a weak, pathetic coward and shove him back to that man, but it was drowned out by the feeling of his arms around him.

When he felt himself being set down, he whined and clutched on tighter, burying his face in the brunette's neck as slurred please fell past his lips.

"Okay, baby. Okay." He felt Wil press a kiss to his temple before they were both seated in the back of his car, Tommy in his lap.

"Can one of you drive?" He heard Wil ask, beginning to run a hand over his back again.

He didn't manage to catch the answer, still slipping in and out of awareness, but he felt something soft press against his side, so he grabbed it to bring to his chest. He recognized it as the seal plush Wilbur had said he'd get him, and he buried his face in the soft material.

"We'll be home soon, sunshine. I promise."

Tommy must have fallen asleep at some point during the drive, because he awoke to being carried in through the front door. He groaned, turning to bury his face into Wilbur's neck, one hand still weakly grasping his seal plush.

"Shh, it's okay," Wilbur whispered, bouncing him gently. "We'll be in bed, soon."

"Don't leave, papa," he slurred, slumber already threatening to take him again.

"I won't ever leave you, sunshine. Not ever."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no, I don't know where the seal narrative came from


	5. just a little man in a big world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pure fluff babey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slams agere on the table* IT'S MY PROJECTION FIC AND I GET TO CHOOSE THE COPING MECHANISMS

It was late when Tommy awoke- nearly nine at night, to be specific. He would have turned to snuggle back under the blankets and let sleep claim him once more, but Wilbur was missing, and he had grown unable to rest without the man by his side, a constant reassurance that he was safe, and that everything was real. His seal plushie was laid out next to him, and the sight made the corners of his lips tug ever so slightly. But, it wasn't his papa (and when did that come about? He'd think on it later, when his head didn't feel so fuzzy.) so he dragged himself out of bed, tugging the blanket around his shoulders to try and keep some of the cozy warmth, and padded downstairs.

He found Wilbur on the couch, chatting with Phil and Kristin, who he had almost forgotten about in his sleep-induced haze. He shook the thoughts from his mind, instead going and collapsing into Wilbur's lap, the man catching him with practiced ease. He shoved his head into the crook of the brunette's neck, sighing softly as one of his large hands came to comb through his messy, blonde curls.

"Hey, sunshine. How're you feeling?" Wilbur asked, voice low, as if the moment was meant to be shared between only them.

"Hmm, missed you," he mumbled, already feeling his eyes drooping, despite the amount of rest he knows he's had.

"Aww, baby," Wil cooed, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. "I missed you too."

"'M hungry, papa," he whined, his stomach choosing that moment to growl. Wilbur just chuckled, holding Tommy closer for a moment.

"Well, then let's get some food in you, sugarplum." Tommy giggled at the nickname.

"Dat's a new one."

"Well, I had to give a sweet name to my sweet boy!"

He erupted into laughter as Wilbur began tickling his sides, squirming in place and leaning away slightly. He weakly thumped his fist against Wil's chest after a moment, signaling for the man to stop. He huffed as he caught his breath, wiping a few stray tears that had gathered in his eyes.

He let Wilbur scoop him up and carry him to the kitchen, setting him on the counter by the refrigerator. He watched as Wil opened the fridge, quickly scanning the items. He looked silly, Tommy thought, with his big, round glasses perched on his nose, face scrunched in concentration.

"We've got some pizza from the other night. How does that sound, sugarplum?"

"Tasty," he hummed, kicking his legs absently while picking at his jeans. He had never changed out of the outfit he had worn that day, the only thing missing being his shoes (removed courtesy of Wilbur.) It was itchy, and he didn't like it. He wanted to wear Wilbur's really big hoodie. It was soft and purple, and hung below his knees, with sleeves that went way past his fingertips. It was the best piece of clothing that Wilbur owned, in his opinion, and it was his favorite to steal.

"Let's go get changed while dinner heats up, yeah?" Wilbur chuckled, already scooping Tommy back into his arms. He wrapped his arms around the brunette's neck on instinct, giggling at the almost weightless feeling being carried always gave.

"Can you put a few slices in the oven, Phil?" Wil called over his shoulder before they headed up the stairs.

He was sat back on the man's bed, and he was a bit saddened at the loss of contact.

"Purple!" He exclaimed, pointing over towards the hoodie he wanted that was currently draped over the man's desk chair.

"Alright, sunshine," Wil smiled, setting the item next to him. "Arms up for me, okay?"

He felt silly, having Wilbur help him change, but it was also nice to be able to rely so heavily on someone else. He didn't have to agonize and overthink. He could just look to Wilbur, and all his problems would be solved.

"D'you want pants?" Wil asked, holding up a pair of sweats.

"Mm-m," he shook his head. "Too hot."

"Alright, sugarplum. I'm sure your pizza's heated up by now. You ready to eat?"

"Yeah!" He giggled, making grabby hands towards his papa, wanting to be lifted back up. "I like pep'roni."

"I do too," Wil whispered once he was back on his hip, as if it were a secret. He just giggled, clinging onto the man as he let his eyes close as he was carried. He yawned as he was set down in one of the dining room chairs, a paper plate with a couple of slices of pizza being placed in front of him by Phil.

"T'ank you!" Tommy remembered his manners- he could be a good boy!

He bit into a slice quickly, though, the hunger from not having eaten since lunch that day getting the better of him. It definitely wasn't the healthiest meal, but it was from his favorite local pizza place, so it was good in his book.

"You've got sauce on your face, sweet boy," Kristin said to the left of him, where she was sitting. He looked at her, wide eyed, as she swiped a bit of sauce off of the corner of his lip with a napkin.

"T'anks," he murmured, embarrassed at having made a mess. His hair was just ruffled, and he returned to his meal, listening to Wilbur and Phil quietly bicker about anteaters as he finished up. He let Kristin help him wipe the rest of the grease off of his hands while he gathered the courage to ask her for something.

"Can- can I have appy juice?"

"Of course, hun. I'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay, mama," he beamed at having not been rejected. Kristin's soft smile only seemed to grow as she placed a gentle kiss on his forehead before heading off into the kitchen.

"Oh? Where'd Kristin go?" Wil asked, having been drawn from his one-sided argument by the woman leaving the room.

"Mama's gettin' me appy juice," he giggled.

"Aww, do I get a nickname?" Phi teased, smile bright on his scruffy face.

"Old," Tommy joked, snickering behind the sleeve he had brought to his mouth to nibble on.

"He's got you there, Philza Minecraft," Wilbur nodded seriously, smirk tugging on his lips.

"I can't believe this," Phil complained, but he was still grinning and his gaze was warm.

Kristin came back, then, with a yellow sippy cup filled with apple juice.

"T'ank you!" He exclaimed once he had been handed it, immediately beginning to drink.

"Where in god's name did you find that in my cabinets?" He heard Wil ask.

"It was in the back, next to those fancy wine glasses you never use."

"Hey! How do you know I don't use those!?"

"If you did, you would have known you had a few sippy cups in your cabinet. Also, I've seen you drink straight out of the bottle on far too many occasions. You are not a wine glass kind of man, Wil."

"She's got you there, Wilbur Soot," Phil mocked.

"Fu- shut up!"

Tommy giggled before making grabby hands towards the brunette, wanting to go back to cuddling with him.

"Aww, does my little sugarplum wanna be held?" Wil cooed, coming up next to him and pinching his cheeks. He lightly swatted the man's hands away before leaning forward and resting his head on his abdomen. Wilbur just held him close, combing a hand through his curls while he continued to sip his apple juice.

"Cuddle?" Tommy asked, peering up at him.

"Course, sunshine."

Wil scooped him up again, and Tommy hummed in content at the feeling of having his papa near him once more.

~

"Wilbur!" Tommy shrieked, racing down the stairs after the cackling man.

"Get back here, you son of a bitch!"

He had just taken a shower- one that was definitely needed- and lo and behold, what does he see when he happens to take a glance at himself in the mirror after getting dressed? _His hair is red._ His _hair_ is fucking _red_. Wilbur would _pay_.

"Philza! Philza! Dadza! Protect me!" Wilbur shouted, diving behind the man. He didn't make much of a shield, though, considering the fact that Wilbur was a tree of a human, and Phil was very much _not_.

"Can't a man drink his morning coffee in peace?" He sighed, but the mirth in his gaze was unmistakable.

"My hair is red, Phil! _Red!_ "

"It's temporary," Kristin laughed, carrying a plate of freshly made pancakes into the dining room.

"But you said it was permanent!" Wilbur whined.

"I lied."

"Mumza," Tommy started, face blank and tone serious. "You are my favorite person in this god-forsaken household."

"I'm honored. Now sit. It's breakfast time."

Tommy was quick to claim a seat and a helping. Could you blame him? Kristin was a _goddess_ in the kitchen. Plus, it was a reprieve from having to teach Wilbur how to cook. (God, he'd never seen anyone as hopeless as Wilbur.)

Tommy ate quickly, ready to get on with their day. They were going to go shopping, which, he admits, is not on his list of 'fun, exciting activities,' but he'd be spending yet another day with his family, and that was good enough in his books. (It had only been three days since the couple had arrived, but they had already been the best few days of his life.)

"Your food isn't going anywhere, child," Wilbur said around a mouthful of pancake.

"Fuck off. I don't wanna speak to you."

"Oh come ooooon," he whined, pouting like a petulant child. "Kris said it'll wash oooouut!"

"Yeah, in like a _week_."

"That's not thaaaat long!"

"I swear to fuckin' god, Wilba, I will dye your hair neon pink when you least expect it."

"You wouldn't," the brunette narrowed his eyes.

"I would, dickhead. And I'd post it to Twitter for all the world to see."

"Bastard child."

"Bitch boy."

"No fighting at the table," Phil snickered, stopping them before they could really get into it.

"Fuck off, old man," the two bit back in unison before starting up their bickering match again.

~

Tommy wasn't sure why it had caught his eye. They had just been passing by the women's section to get to where they needed to go. It was a pretty, pastel pink dress, with little ruffles on the edges and white, embroidered stars near the collar.

He was a man, and while there was nothing wrong with men wearing women's clothing, he didn't think that _he_ wanted to. But, it was pretty and pink and he really, _really_ wanted to be wearing it.

"What's up, sunshine? Why'd you stop?" Wil asked, resting an arm on his shoulders to pull him into a side hug.

Now he was embarrassed. He'd been caught staring at a _dress_.

"I- it's pretty," he mumbled, ducking his head as crimson flooded his cheeks. Wilbur was silent for a moment, and he feared the worst. He tensed in preparation for the strike or scathing words he knew were coming.

"Let's see if they have your size, yeah?"

"Wha- what?" He looked up in surprise, scanning Wilbur's face for any hint of deception. He found none.

"Well, you like it, right?"

"Ye- yeah..."

"Then we can get you it. There's nothing wrong with that."

"But I- I just..." He trailed off, not knowing what he wanted to say. He wasn't even sure _why_ he was protesting at this point. He _really_ did want it.

"No ifs, ands, or buts about it. If my sugarplum wants a dress, I'll get you a dress." Tommy got impossibly redder at that, but Wilbur said it with such finality that he couldn't help but nod along.

Wilbur beamed and picked up a larger one off the rack, holding it up to Tommy's chest.

"This one looks like it'll fit. Let's go try it on."

"M'kay," he murmured, and followed behind Wilbur, silently wondering when Phil and Kristin would get back from their trip to the food court. (They had promised to get the two soft pretzels while they looked around some more. Now, though, he was secretly glad that Wilbur was the only one here to witness his embarrassment.) Wil led him to the changing rooms, and shoved the dress in his arms with a soft smile.

"Now go try it on! And come out if it fits- I wanna see it!" He nodded quickly before practically dashing into the changing room. God, he doesn't think he's ever been so embarrassed.

He looked down at the dress in his arms and resigned himself to getting changed. He hung the hanger on a hook before stripping as fast as possible, slipping the surprisingly silky fabric over his slim frame.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he felt ridiculously stupid, but also really _really_ pretty. (Even if the red hair was still throwing him off.) The collar of the dress folded down neatly, held together with a cute, white, star-shaped button. It had short sleeves, like that of a t-shirt, that were just loose enough to allow free movement, and the little white stars that lined the top of the shoulders and spiraled down towards his chest tied it all together. The rest of it was a rather slim fit, though it poofed out a bit at the end- just above his knees- because of the ruffles present. He almost never wanted to take it off. ( ~~He could imagine his father's sober sneer, and the lust in his eyes when he was plastered. Could imagine the new bruises the man would leave, both punishing and mocking. He hated that that man still had such a hold over him.~~ )

He shyly opened the door to the changing room, seeing Wilbur leaning against the wall, scrolling through something on his phone. He looked up at the sound of the door creaking open, though, and the grin on his face made crimson rush to his cheeks all over again.

"Oh, you look so precious, Toms! You've got a good eye for fashion." It was said so _casually_ , like him wearing a dress _was_ okay, and wasn't abnormal in any way. Like Tommy had just strolled out in a t-shirt and jeans, not a pretty pink _dress_.

He could feel the familiar sting of tears behind his eyes, and he _hated_ it. Why did he have to cry like a little bitch every time he was reminded that he was _safe_? That Wilbur was nothing like his father? That he was finally _free_?

"Oh, baby, what's wrong? Do you not like it?" Wilbur rushed forward to cup his cheeks, swiping his thumbs under his eyes to wipe away the tears that had fallen.

"You're not mad," he sniffled, refusing to meet the brunette's chestnut gaze.

"Of course not, Toms. Clothes are just clothes, yeah?"

"No!" He whined. Wilbur wasn't getting it! " _You're not mad_ ," he stressed.

"Oh, OH!" Wilbur's eyes widened, a soft smile gracing his face. "I promised to be there and keep you safe, you know. And that means keeping you happy." He ended the statement by booping his nose with one of his long fingers, causing Tommy to go cross-eyed for a second as he tried to follow its movements.

"Go get changed, and then we'll check out and meet up with Phil and mama, okay sugarplum?"

"M'kay, papa!" Tommy giggled, mood brightened considerably.

It wasn't long before the two were exiting the store, Tommy clutching Wil's hand tightly, the man's other hand holding their purchases. (Wilbur had spotted a nice, floral patterned dress shirt that he just _had_ to get. Tommy only laughed at him a little for his cheesy sense of fashion.) Phil and Kristin were waiting on a bench outside the shop, talking casually to each other.

"Mama!" Tommy giggled as he bounded up to the couple, dragging Wilbur along.

"Hey, hun," Kristin's eyes crinkled, giving her smile away.

"Did you get anything?" Phil asked, gaze warm with unrestrained affection.

"Mhm! Gots a weal pwetty dwess!" He rocked on the balls of his feet while he talked, and brightened even more when Phil handed him a pretzel.

"T'ank you!" He giggled before collapsing next to Kristin and pulling his mask back down so he could eat.

It wasn't much longer before he and Wilbur had finished their pretzels, ready to traverse the mall once more. They decided to walk in a random direction, not really looking for anything in particular. They had to drag Phil away from a Hot Topic once (which Tommy, of course, made fun of him for, for being a weeb), but other than that, nothing really caught Tommy's eye. That is, until they passed by a Build-A-Bear Workshop. He glanced at it, eyes filled with wonder, but forced himself to look away. He couldn't get one, he told himself.

"Oh, Tommy, Tommy!" Wilbur exclaimed. "We've gotta go get a bear!"

"Wha'?"

"They've got a Build-A-Bear here! We've gotta get _at least_ one!"

Tommy giggled at the man's enthusiasm, secretly excited that he might just get a new stuffie.

He let Wilbur tug him along, the man even giddier than him. They left Phil and Kristin with their few bags, and Tommy would've felt bad at leaving them again if it weren't for his excitement.

They looked at all the available plushies, Wilbur hopping from box to box. One caught Tommy's eye, though. It was a longhorn, with brown and white speckled fur, and cute horns that came up from the sides of its head.

"Papa!" He giggled, holding up the unstuffed fabric.

"You like that one, bud?" Wilbur asked, ruffling his hair. He swatted it away before nodding vigorously.

"Alright, sunshine! C'mon, help me find one!"

"M'kay!"

It took far longer to find something that pleased Wilbur, Tommy even holding up a multicolored sloth at one point. The one was found towards the back of the shop, however. It was a very rotund hedgehog, with a cute little smile on its face.

"Oh, Tommy, Toms, bubs, I think this is the one," Wilbur chuckled.

"Come oooon den," Tommy whined. "Le's go get dem stuffed!" Wilbur just grabbed his hand and dragged him to the poor, exhausted employee running that particular machine.

He let Wilbur do all the talking and interaction, practically hiding behind the man. He was super excited, but he _really_ didn't want to talk to anyone outside of his family. He wasn't sure why he was feeling so shy- usually, he could push past his social anxiety with no problem. Wilbur had him covered, though, and he was grateful for it.

Soon, they were walking out of the store, now with two more plushies.

"T'ank you, papa," he whispered, tucking himself under the man's arm.

"Well, thank _you_ , sugarplum, for helping me find one as well."

Tommy yawned, leaning further into Wilbur's side.

"You tired, bud?"

"Mhm." His eyelids felt heavy. He had trouble keeping them open.

"Well, I'll text mama and Phil, and then we'll all head home for a nap. How's that sound?" He nodded, letting Wilbur drag him along to wherever.

"Hey, Toms," he heard Phil greet an undetermined amount of time later. (He was tired. He really wasn't sure what was happening, anymore.) He hummed _something_ that was intended to be a 'hi,' but his tongue never worked well when he was sleepy.

"Let's get home, little man," Kristin laughed.

"Hm, big man," He yawned, his eyes continuing to close without his permission.

"Of course," Wilbur chuckled fondly.

Tommy, of course, had fallen asleep during the car ride, pressed between Kristin and Phil. He was awoken when they had arrived at home, and had to stumble inside, clutching onto Wilbur the whole way. He whined when he wasn't allowed to immediately collapse in bed, already wanting to be back in slumber's gentle embrace.

"I know, I know," Wilbur sighed, a soft smile on his face. "Let's get into some jammies though, okay?" He whined again, but let Wil change him into an oversized t-shirt and a pair of fuzzy bottoms.

Wilbur tucked him in once he was ready, drawing the soft blanket up to his chin and smoothing it down. A kiss was placed on his forehead after Wilbur pushed his red curls out of the way.

"Sweet dreams, sunshine."

"G'ni' papa," he murmured, already falling prey to sleep's gentle coaxing.


	6. there's a reason you're like this, but that's okay too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> life is hard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the breakdown chapter I've been WAITING to write for so long fuck yeah. Also addresses agere as a coping mechanism

Tommy was on call with Dream. It wasn't that he wanted to be doing, exactly. It wasn't like he didn't care for the man- they were good friends off camera- it was just that he _really_ wasn't ready to start streaming again- both emotionally and physically. He knew it had been far too long, and the people needed a lore stream, but he didn't think he was _ready_ , as hard as that was to admit. Everything with Dream in the SMP was far, _far_ too close to life with his father, and he really didn't want to think about that- especially on stream, live in front of _thousands_ of people.

"Come on, Tommy. It's been over a _month_ ," Dream complained.

"I'm sorry, Dream. I just- I can't. Not yet."

"Tommy, you can't keep doing this! Nobody knows what the hell's going on!"

"That's- that's personal," he stuttered, already chewing on his nails from the stress.

"I can't help you if I don't know what's going on, Tommy! Not even Tubbo knows what's happening! You've been ghosting everyone!"

Tommy knew that Dream was just worried- that Dream cared. But, it had been a stressful few days, now that Phil and Kristin had gone back to their home with the promise to visit more often. And now he was even _more_ upset, with hot tears carving their way down his flushed cheeks. He wanted his papa.

"'M sowwy, Dweam. I jus'- I can't Dweamie. I _can't_ ," he hiccuped, vigorously scrubbing at his eyes to try and stem the tears that wouldn't stop falling.

"Hey, hey, Toms," Dream started up again, voice far softer but no less worried. "What's the matter, bud? I'm not mad, I swear. I'm just worried for you."

"'M sowwy. 'M sowwy. 'M no' ready. 'M no'."

"That's okay, bud. That's okay. I'm sorry for pressuring you. I shouldn't have done that." Dream's tone was soft and caring, and it reminded him of his papa, in a way. But, it wasn't enough to stem the hiccuping sobs that threatened to escape the longer thoughts of his father and streaming rattled around his brain. He wanted to be held and comforted. To hear his papa's heartbeat in his ears, and feel the way his chest rose and fell. Wanted his hands in his faded red curls. Wanted to cuddle Remmy (the name he had affectionately given to his stuffed longhorn) while papa sang him to sleep.

"Tommy?" Wilbur burst into the room, as if summoned by his wishing. (Tommy didn't need to know that he did a poor job of holding his cries back.)

"Papa," he sobbed, making grabby hands towards the brunette.

"Oh, baby. I've got you. I've got you. Shh," he cooed as he scooped him out of the desk chair, setting him in his lap when he sat down.

"Wilbur?" Dream's voice came through the speakers.

"Dream, if I find out you're the reason Tommy regressed like this, I'm going to pulverize you."

"Re-regressed?"

"Yes, _Dream_. He's a kid who never got a childhood. What else do you _expect?"_

"I'm sorry. I didn't _know_. Well, I still don't know, but I- everyone's been so worried, Wilbur. It's been over a month and he's hardly talked to anyone. I didn't even know he was staying with you." Dream sounded desperate, if Tommy had to put a word to it. He didn't like hearing his friends upset.

"I know, Dream," Wilbur sighed, resting his head on top of Tommy's for a moment. "But I don't want him streaming. He's not ready yet. And even if he was, I don't want him to until I have legal custody." Wilbur just sounded _tired_.

"Le- legal custody?" Dream stuttered. "Oh god. What was he _going through?"_

"Too much, Dream. Too much."

"God, I'm sorry. Let me know if I can make it up to you two in any way. I'll- I'll let you go, now."

"Well, I'm sure Toms would appreciate a new oversized hoodie," Wilbur chuckled, nuzzling the side of his face, making Tommy giggle and squirm happily in place. "But thank you. Talk to you later, green boy."

"Uh, yeah." And then the call closed, leaving the pair in silence.

"Hey, baby," Wilbur greeted, cupping his face in his hands so that he had to look up and see his papa's soft smile.

"Pa-pa!" He giggled. It was a bit hard to get the word out, like his tongue had been tied, or weighted down somehow, but it was okay- because his papa was _here!_ He didn't have to think scary thoughts anymore, because papa would protect him from them all.

"Oh, you're just a little boy right now, aren't you, sugarplum?" Wil cooed, covering his face in kisses. He squealed, lightly pushing the man away, soft giggles still falling past his lips.

"Bi'!" He called, racing up to mess with the man's nose. He wasn't really sure what Wilbur was talking about, calling him little. He was big man TommyInnit! He was just happy that he had his papa with him again, that's all.

"Oh, I'm not too sure about that one, Toms. But that's okay, because I'll take care of you." Tommy melted at the soft tone, burying himself back in the man's chest. He brought a thumb up to his mouth on instinct, needing something to occupy his senses.

"Oh, none of that now, baby," Wil smiled, gently drawing his thumb away. He whined, now back at his original problem.

"Here, I just got something for you. Let me go get it, okay?"

"'Ay!" He whimpered, clutching onto the man's shirt as tight as he could- although his grip seemed weak, for some reason.

"Okay, okay. Let's go get it together, then." He giggled as he was lifted into the air, resting on Wilbur's hip as they walked downstairs. Wilbur ended up digging around in a drawer in the kitchen before pulling something out. He didn't let him see what it was, though, which upset him a bit. He wanted to see what papa got him!

"Open up, sunshine," Wil grinned softly, so Tommy did, only for something rubbery to be placed there. He closed his mouth around it on instinct, immediately finding that it was far more comforting than his thumb had been. He hummed in content, letting his eyes close as Wilbur brought them somewhere else.

"How about we watch a movie, baby boy? How's that sound?" He would have protested the use of _baby_ in such a literal sense, but the words wouldn't come to him, and his mind felt so _fuzzy_. He just looked up at Wilbur, hoping to convey... _something_. He wasn't really sure what he wanted, but papa always knew, so he'd trust him.

They were sat on the couch, Tommy in Wilbur's lap like always. The TV brightened, and he could see the familiar characters of his favorite movie occupy the screen not long after. He giggled happily- though he thinks it ended up sounding more like babbles- entranced by the television. He could still feel Wilbur's arms wrapped around him, one hand in his hair like usual, and it made him feel safe. He was always safe when laying on his papa's chest, the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. He couldn't even remember what he had been so upset about earlier. He supposed it didn't matter, though, if Wil wasn't worried about it. 

He let the bright colors and loud sounds entertain him until, eventually, he became hungry. He supposed it was lunch, but he wasn't really sure. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he'd started talking to Dream around nine-thirty. He tried to express to Wilbur- who was still stroking his hair lovingly- that hunger was beginning to set in, but the words still wouldn't come to him. They just kept slipping through his grasp like grains of sand. He whined, both upset at the lack of food, and the fact that he couldn't express it. Maybe it was because of the stupid fog that had begun to settle in his head, lately.

"What's up sunshine?" Wilbur asked, staring at him adoringly. The warmth in his eyes always made him feel so _safe_. But safety could come later- he wanted _food_.

He just whined again, having no words to say what he wanted to, still suckling on the rubber thing in his mouth. He watched as Wil glanced at his phone before seeming to light up.

"Oh, are you hungry, sugarplum? Is that it?" He hummed, begging for Wilbur to understand.

"Okay, okay. Let's get some food in ya." He would've sighed in relief if he could, instead, he just squealed in delight as he was lifted off the couch, being carted to the kitchen.

"Hmm. How's a smoothie sound, sunshine?" Wil asked, Tommy still on his hip as he scanned through his fridge, not in his usual spot, sitting on the counter.

"It's only snack time, so it should be enough, yeah?" He just looked up at Wil, an incomprehensible babble falling past his lips, muffled by the rubber in his mouth. He wasn't even sure what he was trying to say.

"I'll take that as a yes," Wilbur sighed. He was finally sat on the counter, though he felt far more wobbly than he was used to. He must have looked it, too, because the brunette never strayed far.

He flinched when the blender was started up, the sound grating and overwhelming, tears springing to his eyes quickly. He wailed, doing his best to cover his ears. It was over soon, thankfully, and then his face was being pressed into his papa's neck.

"Shh, shh. I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry. It's over now. I promise," He soothed, carding a hand through his faded red curls. He sniffled, grabbing onto the man's shirt. He just wanted food.

"Give me one second, and then we can eat, okay?" He hummed and let go, watching tiredly as Wilbur poured the fruit mixture into a bowl and grabbed a spoon, disappearing to the dining room for a second before coming back just as quick, hands empty.

"Alright, baby. Let's go," he smiled, scooping him off of the counter and carrying him off to the next room, setting him down in a chair- one that had another placed in front of it, where Wil sat.

The man was quick to remove the rubber thing from his mouth, setting it out of sight. It was replaced with a small, plastic spoon, covered in the strawberry, banana, and blueberry concoction. It was tasty, so he swallowed, the fact that he was sixteen and didn't need to be spoon-fed like an infant never crossing his mind. (Nor did the fact that he didn't need to eat mush like one.)

The fog in his mind had grown quite heavy by the time he had eaten most of the 'smoothie,' and he found himself leaning even further towards his papa with each bite. His eyes didn't want to stay open, either, no matter how many times he rubbed at them with his fists. So when the next spoonful came, he refused to open his mouth, opting to whine and reach towards Wilbur.

"Aww, okay baby. Let's go get changed, and then we can sleep." He just whined again, still not within his papa's grasp.

The spoon and mostly empty bowl were set to the side, the rubber thing was placed back into his mouth, and he was carted upstairs and sat on the plush bed that he _really_ wanted to sink into, but Wilbur kept his attention. He let Wil change him into a soft, fuzzy sweater with equally soft sleep shorts- much better than the khakis he had been wearing. Then, _finally_ , he was being tucked in, Remmy in his arms, and his favorite blanket pulled close. His eyes were shut before Wilbur could finish saying 'goodnight.'

~

When Tommy awoke, he had never been more embarrassed. Not only was there a _pacifier_ in his mouth, but he was in a sweater with _Winnie the fucking poo_ stitched on it, with _matching sleep shorts_. This was, decidedly, the worst moment of his god forsaken life.

It got even worse when Wilbur strolled in, soft smile on his face like it was all completely _normal_.

"Hey, Toms! I was just coming to wake you up." And then Wilbur sat down next to him and ruffled his hair like he wasn't some kind of fucking _freak_. Like he wasn't _pathetic_ for shutting down and acting like an _infant_ because Dream just wanted him to _do his fucking job._

"What's the matter, sunshine? What are the tears for? Did you have a bad dream?" Wilbur soothed, cupping his face in those stupidly large hands of his, like Tommy was the only thing in the world that mattered. ~~He hated it. He didn't deserve that.~~

"'M sorry," Tommy settled for, trying his best to focus his gaze anywhere besides the man's face.

"For what, darling? There's nothing to be sorry for." And Wilbur said it like he _meant it_. It was stupid and it made that dumb fucking fog creep at the edges of his psyche, but he pushed it down with a vengeance.

"I made you take care of me like I was some kind of- some kind of fuckin' _baby_ ," he ranted, hot tears finally spilling over his flushed cheeks. "I was actin' all fuckin' helpless and shit. I'm not a kid," he finished, bringing a slightly shaky hand up to wipe at his nose.

"You _are_ a kid, Tommy, and that's okay!" Wilbur smiled, like Tommy wasn't _continuing_ to be a hassle. ~~First, he makes him deal with him online, then he calls the man in the middle of the fucking night, forced him to _house him_ , and now he was forcing him to care for him as if he was a child. God, he was awful. His father was right.~~

"Youth isn't a bad thing, Tommy. It's a gift," Wil cut him off the moment he opened his mouth to bite out a retort. "And sometimes you feel a bit younger. So what? You're healing, Toms. Let yourself heal."

"But I shouldn't _need_ to act like some kind of fucking baby!" He cried, weakly hitting Wil's chest. "I'm _sixteen_. I was _already_ a kid."

"You're a sixteen year old kid who never got a childhood, Tommy. You were young, yes, but you never got to be a _child_. Let yourself be one now, sugarplum. There's nothing wrong with that."

"I hate it," he sobbed, finally collapsing into Wilbur's chest, clutching the man's shirt like a lifeline. "I hate being helpless."

"You're not helpless, sunshine. You're one of the _strongest_ people I know. Letting yourself rely on others isn't a weakness, either. It's a _strength_. Be kind to yourself, Tommy. You're _healing_."

"I don't wanna heal!" He wailed, sobs racking his frame. "I don't wanna feel better! I want things to go back- back to how they were. When mommy would sing me to sleep, and we'd get to stay up late watching movies, 'cause- 'cause dad would be out of the house. I wanna go back to feeling _numb_ 'cause it means I wouldn't have to feel like this!" He _hated_ the way that every day felt like being free from his father's net. Hated that with every new stand untangled, more and more turbulent, unchecked emotions came along with it. He didn't want to feel like this anymore.

"I wish mommy never left," he choked, taking far too much comfort in the way Wilbur let him speak, just running a hand up and down his back and through his faded red curls. "I wish she never left 'cause things weren't so bad when she was around. And I hate that I want it 'cause she was hurtin'- hurting so much, papa. I hate that she got away and _left me behind_." He dissolved into shuddering sobs and shrieking wails after that, crying for the child that never got to be. The child that wanted their one source of comfort in the hell that had been their youth. Wanted normal to return, even if normal was awful.

Wilbur never once left, though, only moved so that Tommy could rest comfortably on top of him, both of them sprawled out on the man's king sized bed. He whispered soothing, sweet nothings into his hair, peppering his scalp with kisses between each one. Told him he loved him a million times over, and never once got tired of it- sounded exhausted at having to take care of Tommy for the hundredth time.

"I love you, Tommy. Big, little, and anything in between. You could be a mass murderer, for all I care. You're still my baby boy, and I'll always be here for you, even if you don't want me."

He only cried harder.

~

Wilbur had gotten on call with some of his personal friends after a brief lunch of ham sandwiches. It was a bit awkward, knowing he was on camera in front of people he _didn't know_ while tucked into the man's side, but Wil had given him his Switch- to which he _immediately_ logged into- so he was set.

He had missed playing New Horizons. It was a silly thing to miss, but the Animal Crossing series as a whole was his _favorite_ \- more so than even Minecraft. It was calming. A nice reprieve from the real world. Here, on this digital paradise, he could plant pretty flowers and talk to cute little animal friends. He could catch cool bugs and pull up ridiculously huge fish (and scream internally when it ended up being another _fucking sea bass_.) He could get lost in shopping and running around the island, and never once had to leave his comfort zone to do _any_ of it. Technology truly was a blessing.

In fact, he was _so_ happy to be playing it again, when he finally finished (or, well, finished _funding_ ) his bridge he had started working on a couple of months ago, he couldn't help but poke Wilbur in the side and excitedly show him his screen.

"Good job, sunshine," Wil smiled down at him, ruffling his hair like he always did. He basked in the praise, even if it made him feel childish, and let Wilbur get away with messing up his curls. (He wasn't 'feeling little' or whatever the fuck Wilbur had called it, but he had to admit, praise was _nice_. Especially when coming from a father figure. ~~Even if he felt like Wil was only playing along to make him feel better. He hated pity.~~ )

He went back to his game, feeling Wilbur tug him closer with the arm he had around his shoulders, the brunette once again lost in conversation with his friends. It was nice, being able to just relax- though sometimes he felt as if it's all he did, recently. But, he was still exhausted from his cry-fest earlier, so the reprieve was nice.

It was times like these, though, that he felt as if it wasn't complete. Tubbo wasn't by his side, and that was just unacceptable. He hadn't talked to the other teen, his _best friend_ , very often since _**that**_ night. He missed him, greatly, but reaching out felt like such a hassle nowadays. Like if he just stayed in Wilbur's house, with no one else intruding, the world around him didn't have to exist. He could hide away from it all in this timeless space. But, he _really_ wanted to call Tubbo. He hoped he was awake.

He tugged on Wilbur's sleeve to get his attention. Once the man turned to him, he swallowed his nerves.

"Can I go call Tubbo?"

"Of course, Toms. No need to ask. Call me if you need anything, okay?" A kiss was placed on his forehead, and then he was out of the room (after closing out of his game), heading towards where he knows he left his phone on the couch after breakfast that morning, before Dream messaged and said he wanted to talk.

Now, though, his hands trembled slightly as he held the device in his hands, thumb hovering over Tubbo's profile. He was half convinced to just throw his phone back on the cushions and retreat upstairs, returning to Wilbur's side, but he also _really_ wanted to just hang out with his best friend again.

He clicked the call button.

His heart leaped to his throat.

Tubbo answered.

"Tommy!" Tubbo's yell crackled through his speaker. "What's up, man?"

"Hey, Tubbo," he chuckled, running a hand through his hair as collapsed on the couch. "I miiiiiiissed yoooouu!" He whined.

"Yeah, yeah. I missed you too." He could hear the grin in his tone, despite his feigned exasperation.

"Uhh, wanna face time?" He said dumbly. He wanted to see his friend's face.

"Yeah, sure," Tubbo rushed, before he heard the tell tale drop of a phone and then Tubbo was no where near it. It would've been suspicious if Tommy hadn't been in this exact situation hundreds of times before. It meant that the lazy bastard didn't have a shirt on because he had yet to get out of bed. The thought that he, Tommy fucking Innit, was the responsible one between the two of them was always a bit startling, especially with how the fans tended to portray bee boy.

"Okay, I'm back!" Said teen yelled, turning his camera on. It was unnecessarily close to his face, and he could still see the crust in the corners of Tubbo's eyes, but it made him smile all the same.

"Tubbo!" He laughed as he turned his own camera on, holding it a bit farther from his face to be _courteous_.

"Why's your hair a shit red?"

"'Cause Wilby's a dick."

"Makes sense. What happened?"

"The dick'ead put fuckin' _dye_ in my shampoo before I showered. Real asshole move, if you ask me. Kristin was the one to save my life, really. Bought temporary dye for the prank instead of the perm'nent Wil wanted."

"Wait, is _that_ why Phil took a week break from streaming?"

"Yeah! They came over for a while. It was poggers, dude. We went to an aquarium."

"Wait, for real?"

"Yeah! Lemme go find my seal," he giggled before dropping the phone on the couch and rushing upstairs. He found it on Wil's side of the bed, his still horribly messy and unmade. He grinned, tossing a quick wave to Wilbur as he dashed out of the room, plusie in tow.

He soon picked up his phone, turning the camera around so that Tubbo could see Mr. Wiggles displayed on the couch in his full glory.

"Oh, pogchamp! He's fucking _big_!" Tubbo laughed.

"Yeah, man! He's like, too ma fuckin' _knees_ when I hold him up." He grinned as he flipped the camera back around, flopping back on the couch, Mr. Wiggles sat snug on his chest.

"Okay, now I'm kinda jealous."

"You should be!"

"Yeah, yeah. What's his name?"

"Mr. Wiggles." His face went beet red, but he mumbled it anyway.

"He looks like a Mr. Wiggles," Tubbo nodded seriously.

"Mhm," he smiled softly, glad that Tubbo wasn't poking fun at him for it. "When we went to see the seals, one kept following my hand. It was super cool. He was all wiggly and shit."

"You really are living the dream, aren't you, man?"

"Oh, fuck off!" He laughed.

"When are you gonna come see meeee," Tubbo whined next, stupidly childish pout on display.

"I dunno. I'll have to talk to papa- Wilby about it."

"Papa?" Tubbo teased.

"Shut the fuck up, bee boy. You heard _nothing_."

"But _Tommy!_ What are we gonna tell the fans now that the Sleepy Bois dynamic is all fucked up!?"

"Oh my god," Tommy cackled. "I fucking hate you."

"Aw, I love you too, Tommy!"

"Don't pat-roo-nize me, bitch."

"I'm gonna."

"Dick'ead."

Tommy wasn't sure why he had been so nervous. It was only tubbo, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo is fucking UNHINGED and I will not stand for the fanon portrayal of 'cute, smiley bee boy' any longer


End file.
